A Courtship of Steel & Flame
by NE8675309
Summary: Constantly straddling the fine line between love and hate, Cassian and Nesta are tangled in the desire to know how much of what they feel is genuine and how much is beyond their control? A Nessian fic with hints of Elucien. Takes place in between and after the series.
1. Bonding Passion & Poison

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. This is my first Nessian fanfic. Sorry to anyone who has read my other stuff. The way I'm switching between fandoms is enough to give anyone whiplash, lol. I personally adore both these characters and feel like their relationship doesn't get enough time in the _ACO_ \- series. I have decided to rate this series M because of content in later chapters. I plan on continuing with my typical update scheduling. A new chapter will be posted every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. However, I will be posting the first 2 chapters together and the last 2 together. A little note that Chapters 1 and 2 are technically headcanons that take place during the series. (1 takes place the day they met in _ACOMAF_ , while 2 takes place during the beginning of _ACOWAR_.) Chapters 3-10 will take place after the end of the series. I hope you enjoy. Please R&R. Thanks. - Nikki**

* * *

 **Ch. 1: Bonding Passion & Poison**

If anything about the feeling sprinting through his veins had been even slightly funny, Cassian would've surely laughed; if only to sit in awe at the sublime tragedy of facing this untamable, perfect link that threatened to complete him, who stared back. Painfully human.

He wanted to leave and never face this woman again. Then Nesta spoke.

Her poisonous cadence forced its way into his head and he felt the fight in his gut awaken.

* * *

Later that night after everyone had been shown to their rooms and most had been asleep for hours, Nesta finally slipped back into the library. She started a small fire and sat in her favorite chair by the chimney. Her feet instinctively curled beneath her as she allowed the singular sound of the crackling fire to fill her thankfully now quiet world. She was barely 10 pages in before she had heard something; a second later the door to the library swung open.

Cassian poked his head through. "Nope." He said to himself, before meeting her eyes. "Ah, perfect. Hello, Feyre's older sister." He said low with none of the satisfaction his words should have implied. His smile was liquid condescension as he took in her position. His brows lifted humoredly.

She kicked her feet out with as much grace as she could manage. "My name is Nesta." She closed her book. "Though you may call me Miss Archeron."

"Thank you for the reminder, Nesta." He said, completely ignoring her before mumbling to himself. "That's what her name is." He was of course faking and had no doubt that she suspected as much, but he still couldn't help trying to rile her up.

She glared back at him. "What are you doing up?"

"I'm looking for the kitchen. Would you point me in the right direction? I'm still a little hungry."

She scoffed. "That desperate to insult our hospitality yet again?"

"I didn't insult anything. As far as I'm concerned food is food. Whatever fills your gut and curbs the pain is enough for me." She watched him for a second and though it seemed a considering silence, he couldn't help but continue, building upon his own indignation with her attitude. "And I have yet to see you be even the slightest bit hospitable."

"Maybe not according to your overly entitled standards, seeing as I have offered you both food and a warm bed to sleep in, yet you still think it is okay to snoop around my house, completely uninvited." She spoke with a lifted brow; her tone both even and annoyed.

He smirked, antagonizing. "Ah, there it is; that hospitality you spoke of. I can't fathom how I missed it the first time." He let his sarcasm fade. "I was honestly just hungry."

"You've already eaten." She insisted with an even and irritable tone.

"My, what a gracious host you are."

"I am not your host." She stood and walked in his direction. "Not willingly, at least. All of you have come to my house unannounced and imposed yourselves upon me."

Cassian couldn't help but briefly think just how much he might enjoy to really impose himself upon her…or below her, he wasn't picky. He allowed himself a short, crooked smirk. "Technically, this is still Feyre's home too-"

She interrupted him. "I doubt our father would see it that way, considering how long she's been away without any word."

He continued on, undisturbed. "And she happens to trust us."

"Well," she shrugged. "She's always had poor taste in character."

"If that were true, she would be fonder of you."

She stepped closer, the air around her eerily quiet as she spoke commanding and low. "You clearly forget where you stand. These are my lands and my home, not yours. You have no authority or validity under my roof and it's best you learn that now."

He also took another step, closing the space. "A feeling you will become all too familiar with yourself, should we fail in our mission and this wall comes tumbling down. So best turn your ire and hatred on the ones who would see it happen and not those who fight to prevent it."

She looked at his formidable stature and forced a false scoff from her throat as if to imply she didn't believe him capable of such a feat. They both knew it was an empty gesture, but she carried on as if it wasn't so wholly transparent. "Then finish your business and be gone."

His voice was getting louder in the short distance between them, provoked in his irritation. "I'm trying to, but-"

"But, what?" Her voice rose as well.

"Where is the damn kitchen?" He yelled.

She leaned back, squinting at him. She pointed and spoke. "It's down that hallway. When it splits, go to the right and follow it until the end."

He bobbed his head, maintaining eye contact with her as pieces of his ebony hair fell in front of his warm hazel eyes. "Much obliged, Nesta."

She noticed the way his voice purposefully heated and stretched to softly utter her name. He turned to leave. "Though," she spoke without realizing she was going to. He stopped. "I should warn you; there isn't much food and anything that's left is unprepared."

He turned to face her. "Why?"

"Because we are a two-person household that had to piece together any left-over food to make a six-person meal; not to mention that we had to send away our cook."

"Why would you do that?"

"Why ever do you think?" She stepped even closer. "Feyre and the High Lord, I might be able to hide, but you-" she laughed, soft and bitter. "With your hulking size and …" she cut herself off, her attention turned to his wings. As she spoke, she was compelled by an instinctual, yet unfamiliar desire that pulled at her like a tether drawn to that man, no that Fae. "Could these be any more garish and obnoxious?" Before she could stop herself, she reached out to touch his wings. Her fingertips barely had a chance to taste their texture before the skin beneath twitched and he quickly smacked her fingers away. Her eyes widened as she felt the spell disperse from within.

"Careful, Ice Princess," he condescended in an antagonistic and intentional depravation of a more deserved ranking. "You poke and prod a beast."

Her eyes narrowed and she challenged with a smirk. "I poke and prod a fool and a bastard in a beast's disguise."

Nesta lifted her chin, wholly indignant. Her hostile gaze baited a playful grin from him. That was what they were, venom and honey. He knew undoubtedly that she was the only woman who could stand before and Illyrian War General, 500 years her senior, who towered over her and still act as if she had the advantage over him.

For a brief second, he could see the cruel wings of midnight ghosting behind her. Hers would've been magnificent. Although the image was astounding, he quickly willed it away. Cassian was thankful she was mortal and not Illyrian. He'd rather she have no wings at all, than be born with the most beautiful wings and feel the night's caress on them only to have her beauty and power clipped in an attempt to make way for obedience and domestic slavery. An attempt that would ultimately fail, he knew, as this Nesta Archeron could be held down, tortured and still possess the hellfire to antagonize her captors spewing spit on their brow. No, this creature before him could not, would not be broken. Yes, it was good she was human.

"You know, it might behoove you, Nesta," she glared at the complete lack of formality in his address. "To retract your claws and cease baring your fangs in the company of allies."

Though he was easily twice her size, the mesmerizing harpy condescended to speak to him as if it diminished her status to do so. "You flatter yourself, both in thinking I consider you worth the effort to bare them in the first place and that I might ever perceive you to be an ally."

"Are you always this charming?"

"Only when provoked."

"Why do I imagine that to be quite often?" She completely snubbed him. Surprisingly enough, it was her silence that made him feel defeated as if she wouldn't stoop to be his verbal sparring opponent. It provoked Cassian with a ridiculous desperation to make her acknowledge him. "Is this an example? If such basic provocation is adequate to render you silent, then I rescind my earlier comment; it seems you don't possess any claws or fangs at all."

She turned to face him again. "I wonder," she began and he leaned in, accidentally drawn to her voice. "Why you bother to surround yourself with so many people when you are more than thoroughly entertained by the sound of your own voice?"

He stilled for a second, needing to ignore the urge to smile. "Jealous?"

The dangerous tilt of his brow begged an outraged reaction from her, instead all she noticed was the rising temperature of her blood, comparable to the fleeting seconds before a teapot screamed; internally, she wanted to do the same. She tried to disregard the way the heat trickled and meandered below its usual home in her gut, especially the way it called in its foreign and aching new residence, all warning that it was no longer ire that charged her, but desire. She scoffed. "I can hardly bear your company the single minute it takes to relay a message; any more would seem like agony." 'Sweet agony,' she impulsively thought.

He smirked, almost knowingly. "I meant to accuse you of being jealous of the company I bear, not that bears me; though it's nice to know where your thoughts first went."

'This man!' She quietly seethed before taking a calming breath. "Either way would be a punishment. I would rather the entirety of my company diminished than for it to be filled with volumes of you immortal things." The building condemnation of him began to scald her throat, though she refused to comprehend why. "All of you Fae and Illrulian are the same, unable to value real, mortal life."

"Illyrian." He corrected.

"I couldn't be bothered to care." She said, almost bored.

"And yet you seem to."

"The only thing I care about is your absence so I can return to my normal life."

"So I affect you that much?"

She swallowed a growl of irritation, unable to decide if she wanted to throttle his throat or bite it; unsure which action would be fueled by ire and which by desire. "Your presence merely impedes on my sanity." She spoke with a burning calm.

"So I drive you crazy?"

Nesta surprised herself as any prior knowledge of propriety and decorum fled from her brain, when she thrust the heel of her foot into the top of his own. She was rewarded with the only sounds she ever wanted to hear him utter, obscene curses of pain. She strut away, less than proud of her tactics, though unnervingly content with their results. A gash chiseled its way into her chest, finding its home in a heart that had felt whole before that night.

Though she couldn't see it, upon her exit, Cassian watched her with fond irritation. That toxic fire she possessed had him entirely spellbound in the most alarming and arousing way.

* * *

The next morning when he left, he knew the night before and any other second he spent near her was sure to plague him until the end of his days. It seemed both unjust and completely expected that he would meet her now, amidst war and impending doom, a woman who eyes set his gut aflame and that she would sit in front of him, so oblivious and mortal.

The cycle of her life was as temporary to him as the passing of seasons. All that seemed permanent anymore was war, death and the passage of time.


	2. Eternal Fire & Fury

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. In my last Author's Note I covered just about everything, so just a reminder to anyone who decided to continue... this takes place in ACOWAR while Feyre is in the Spring Court. After this chapter 3 will pick up post ending.**

 **Ch. 2: Eternal Fire & Fury**

Cassian tried not to marvel at her, at the power this woman emitted. He had been a soldier for longer than half a millennium; he had fought with and beside the best, trained the most fearsome, but he had by no means ever witnessed an inferno engulfed soul until the day he first beheld Nesta. In all his 500 years, he had never felt a fiery existence that matched his own, but she was charred and scalding. Like called to like. He felt it speaking, screaming as it sunk further than his skin, melting through his muscles, scraping the individual notches of his vertebrae as it whispered along the spines and membranes of his heavy Illyrian wings. Nesta couldn't have understood, wouldn't because of the human ignorance shielding her from the delicious torture.

He had sat at that table and saw the fight of a soldier, the mind of a general and the regal essence of an empress, perhaps even a deity; all thrashing beneath her mortal coil. It was as if her skin was the only thing containing the kind of power that when released would make High Lords, Queens and Kings, their entire world bow before her command. It reminded him of Amren, only Nesta had been human, perfectly ordinary by birth and circumstance. That was why he had to provoke her when they first met. He loved seeing it peek out in her cobalt fire, the icy blue orbs of her spirit pulled and tugged at his being.

Now High Fae before him, her body as undeniably strong and unbreakable as her willful soul and her prowess expanded, multiplied beyond what he could calculate. She terrified and enticed him with such severity that he truly wondered if she was a deity, a Goddess trapped in flesh, the same way the demon of Amren had been.

* * *

Nesta was livid, more so than usual. Nothing was in her control anymore. She had no home, no familiarity, even the rights of her body had been stolen from her. To make matters worse, the damn thing never seemed to follow her instructions. She saw and heard too well, she walked too quietly; somehow, even her posture was better and it was infuriating. None of this was her and yet now it was forever.

The only people who understood what she was going through were her two sisters: Feyre, who had disappeared to reprise her role as the savior of all Fae-kind and dear, sweet Elain, who had become practically catatonic with grief. She sat wide eyed in the corner of her room, whispering countless mutterings – that weren't quite words – to herself. Nesta was utterly alone.

After a week, she could no longer take her self-imposed quarantine. She remembered the brief breakdown her youngest sister's beau had given them upon arrival, despite his somber disposition. There was a small, den-like library nearby. Sneaking her way there, she felt pity towards Rhys, the High Lord. He seemed worried about Feyre, when pressed to speak about her absence, he would simply reiterate the same singular statement. 'She has a plan.'

The seemingly good natured Lord had yet to push Nesta or Elain for anything. He had provided them with shelter, clothes and the very food she had sworn to never eat (and damn it all, it was as delicious as he had said.) They had only done good by Elain and her, yet she was too angry to be gracious, even if she were to know how.

Her life would never be the same again and half of the blame lied with the people who rested in the same house as she, while the other half fell to several in the Spring Court, who were either apathetic or proud of the change they had caused.

She found the library with relative ease and shut the door quietly behind her. She was relieved to find a few familiar authors residing on one of the shelves. Sitting down, she skimmed through a thick crimson-bound book. An insuppressible huff erupted from her. There was no escaping it; her eyes had been exceptional as a human, but it was nothing compared to what she experienced now. She could see every ridge, every single pore in the parchment's face. It was so unnerving she tried to squint in hopes of hindering her overwhelming vision, if only for a second. It didn't work in the slightest, which angered her even more.

Nothing would ever be the way she had wanted or expected. She wouldn't be able to just go home; she wouldn't grow old. It was all a nightmare. The hardest part was that she had tried so hard to be strong for Elain, that she hadn't had a chance to mourn the life she had been robbed of. It was all unjust, though she still couldn't help but think that her right to sorrow was nothing compared to her sister's. Who were they going to be in these new bodies, in these new lives, in this strange world?

Red hot tears of fury finally fell. It made her feel weak, but she couldn't stop it. Even if she fought tooth and nail against the emotion, she knew it wouldn't help. She needed to grieve.

* * *

She wept for an hour and though the strain of it had tired her, she refused to sleep, refused to slip back into that room that smelled like the death of her mortality. So she stayed reading in utter silence for another hour or so.

He had found her. She wasn't sure if she heard or smelled him first, the claim to her senses, both physical and chemical. The door opened and silence shrouded them. Nesta forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. What she saw glancing back made her sick; it wasn't quite pity, but no doubt something akin to it. Everything was soft, his eyes, his steps and even his voice as he spoke. "Lunch is ready. Would you like to join or would you prefer it sent up?"

She wanted to gag on the gentleness he bestowed on her. Ever since they had come back from Hybern, his sharp eyes had been cushioned as if to soften their every interaction lest she prick herself on the hard edge of their gaze. It had been hard, the mental transition of becoming something new, yet ageless, invincible and despised. She could regret her new life, but seeing everyone else look at her now like she was this meek creature, some fragile doll deserving of sympathy and understanding, it infuriated her. She looked to her book again.

Somewhat dejected, Cassian turned back to the door. Much too strong, as if on purpose, her voice rang out. "There is much I can't fathom about this world of yours."

He stopped and turned, surprised not just by the subject, but the volume of her words. "How do you mean?" He ventured, holding himself still for her reply, unsure she might even give one.

She considered for a second. "Feyre is your High Lady?"

He took one step forward. "The first one in Prythian's existence, yes."

Nesta hummed slightly, still not looking up from her book as she spoke. "So that one, Rhys, with the violet eyes, he is her husband?"

He took another step closer. "In a manner of speaking."

"What about the other?"

"The other?"

"The Fae she left home for."

"Tamlin of the Spring Court?"

"Ah, yes." She seethed. "Tamlin. That was his name." There was a silence that lasted so long Cassian forgot what they were talking about, until she spoke again as if a second hadn't passed. "I don't understand how she changed her mind so quickly."

"It was more a change of heart."

She looked up and met his gaze. "Meaning?"

"My High Lord, Rhys is her mate."

"Is that meant to hold value?"

He shook his head, completely baffled by her honest ignorance. "More so than anything."

"What does it mean?" She asked, the book, now forgotten on her lap.

He stepped closer, leaning beside a shelf. Taking in a gust of air, he briefly scrambled. "More than I could explain. It is as if she is his and he is hers. There no longer are others." He sighed and rubbed his chin, looking directly into her eyes.

"You make it seem like ownership."

He grinned, hiding a laugh at the obvious distaste drenching her tone. "Sometimes it can be, but it's not supposed to. Rhys and Feyre are nothing like that. It's a partnership."

She found herself closely watching the change in his expression and suddenly it was as if she could hear his thoughts as clearly as her own. He was looking at her intimately; the room was charged with a heat she couldn't allow herself to decipher. "It is meant to be a bond, an unparalleled contract." Now he was watching her closely and she couldn't help but imagine his words held a familiar and specific meaning to him as if he knew the feeling, as if she should too. "You understand?" He wasn't inquiring if her question had been answered, but if she, herself recognized and agreed with his explanation.

The room felt too quiet surrounding them. She was determined to ignore whatever he had implied. "I would like my lunch brought up." She looked back to her book, pretending to read, pretending to breathe as her eyes and exhales continued their shallow and disconnected movements. Once he left, she looked up, finally pulling in real breaths that dragged their way through her now burning lungs.

Much too soon she felt him re-enter the room. She didn't want to look up, to feel those eyes again, unmasked in their emotion, but so vague in any explanation.

He set down the tray of food. She bobbed her head in lieu of thanks, returning to her book. As he walked out, she spoke quietly. "It seems not everyone walked away unscathed."

He turned back to face her and noticed her eyes fall back to her book. She had been looking at his bandaged wings. "It would seem so." He replied simply before leaving.

* * *

Several days had passed and it seemed to Nesta that the large, burly oaf had come to learn quickly that she could always be found in the library. Every day he would visit, telling her when meals were ready and every day she would ignore his invites to join the rest of them. He would have her food brought up and sometimes he would bring it up himself.

It was starting to irk her how even his footsteps were soft so as not to startle her, as if she were some skittish woodland creature. She felt her patience snap one day when he gently knocked on the door before entering. She had closed it hoping that Cassian would recognize that she simply wanted to be left alone, but clearly his brain was as small as she had originally surmised. When he opened the door in spite of the fact that she hadn't answered, she swallowed the wild urge to throw her book at his head. She had to remind herself that she didn't want to damage the book on his thick, stone-like skull.

When she looked up, she could see the sad guilt in his eyes and she hated him for it, hated herself even more for instinctually wishing she could relieve him of that heavy and excruciating remorse. Suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore. "I don't need, nor do I want your pity." Nesta nearly spat the last word.

The brooding Illyrian General met her eyes, his resolve stronger than before. His voice called out surprisingly resilient as if he was thankful that the topic was finally being broached. "It's not pity. Everything has changed for you, forever. There's nothing I can do to fix that; I know-"

Cassian wasn't allowed to finish that sentiment before Nesta stood and bombarded his words with her own. "Know? You know? Pray tell, what is it about my situation that you comprehend better than I do? What facet of my now unwillingly immortal existence do you grasp so clearly that has somehow evaded my attention?" Her gaze was controlled hellfire penetrating his chest. "You don't know anything about me, about what I feel, about what happened in the Cauldron that day." Her fury started to calm; there was still glass in her voice, but it was more subdued. "That day, you failed us, whether it was truly your fault or not."

Hazel eyes refocused back on her face, surprised and amazed by her words. "I see that your soldier's honor is shredding at you, but don't expect me to alleviate the pain by making you useful or punishing you so that you may atone." She stood straighter, the aura of a Queen. "I am in no forgiving mood today."

With that, her subject was clearly dismissed, but Cassian couldn't get his feet to move. "I-" He stammered; something he had never done before, but he had failed _her_ and the ache robbed him of any purpose, save making things right. He sighed. "I am not looking for forgiveness; just a chance to say that I am sorry." He met her stare, with his soul finding its way back into his gaze, into his voice. His eyes now full of their spark. "I look forward to the day that I can separate the King of Hybern's head from his miserable shoulders." The tone changed, now unreadable. "It won't change or fix things, I realize. I would fix it, if I could. If I could, I would go back…"

"I see how hard it is for you to find peace…" his voice lingered as if he wanted to say more but wasn't sure what were the right words to occupy the silence simmering between them. Nesta hated that tenderness; the genuine warmth it revealed heated her gut until it made her feel ill.

"It's not your job to find me peace. I seldom had it before. The only difference now is that its absence is magnified." She sneered pointedly. "Even if you were to endeavor to find it, I'm sure it's presence would elude you."

"I don't understand." He nearly balked his confusion.

When she looked back at him, her eyes widened ever so slightly. The scowl of her brow unhinging itself as the fire in her eyes became muted, rested embers waiting for provocation. The smoke hissed in those orbs, the flame still lurked behind, dormant but excitable. It was calm for Nesta and he floundered at the sight.

She scoffed; the sound tearing at her magnificent throat. "You think I don't see; I don't understand? You are such a hypocrite; you extol the beauty of peace, but death is your purpose, your drive. It's not a pretty face that draws you close, it's the raging fire within and yet you play as if you would see it extinguished to bring me peace." Her laugh was cruel and condemning. "You know nothing of the word and you never will, not physically. Just as I never will emotionally. We will both burn for eternity, you on the outside and I within and one day our respective fires will claim us, leaving no proof of our existence save for our pathetic cinders that will litter this world, signaling our entrance into the next." The flames were flicking in her eyes, ravaging in full force and it shocked Cassian that he had not seen them building as she spoke. He had been so hypnotized by her syrupy and bitter molasses damnation of them both.

Cassian couldn't begin to guess what was wrong with him as he actively wanted this venomous creature before him. The ire she thrust at him made him realize that he didn't need to worry about her. She was going to be fine. Despite what he had originally feared, this wouldn't break her.

Nesta smirked at the uncharacteristically silent Illyrian warrior. As she moved to turn away, his heavy hand clamped on her shoulder. His scarlet siphon seemed to twinkle, challenging her power. She looked up to find his eyes even more ablaze than his jewel of control, singing their own challenge. She nearly snarled at the touch.

His grin was devilish and distracting as he spoke softer than she thought he was capable of. "Just imagine…" his voice a deep caress tickling to the bottom of her spine, as she locked her legs, refusing to lean into the one spot their bodies touched. He gripped her shoulder tighter as if he could read her mind. "The blaze, the havoc that would wreak if our fires joined."

He was teasing her; she knew it with every breath of her being, but repulsively enough, she was tempted to accept his offer. She hid her desire and slapped his hand away. "You couldn't even withstand my smoke." The challenge was coated with a sour humor.

"I'd be willing to test that theory. If so," his hazel eyes looked her up and down with a gaze so predatory he might as well have been licking his lips. "What a way to go."

Merely, the possibility that he could hear her heart thrashing in her chest infuriated her, almost as much as the fact that it was thrashing at all. She had started the argument with the advantage, the high ground over him and he was now snatching victory with those suggestive hazel eyes. She wouldn't allow it. "Clearly, it would be the greatest experience in your pitiful existence. Shame for you, you'll never know it." She stalked away, throwing out that last word, securing her triumph, hoping he didn't reply. Otherwise she would be forced to turn around and continue until her win was indisputable.

* * *

He walked through the doorway and stopped short, leaning against the desk. It had been a few days since he had watched her wake from her silent reverie. With the knowledge that she would be fine, he was working his way up to no longer babying her. "Dinner is almost ready." He tried.

Nothing about her demeanor flinched as her eyes stayed on her book. "You know where I'll be."

He sighed. "Are you sure you don't want to come join us?"

"Why?" She turned the page. "Why should I suffer the company of those I never usually would under any circumstances: to plaster a false smile and ease their consciences? Is it my duty to make them feel better about what happened?" She looked up at him, her eyes full with a cruel sharpness.

He huffed. 'Progress be damned,' he thought. "I can't believe you. Do you really think that's what this is about?" He scoffed. "No one here has anything to feel guilty about. They didn't do this to you. I can admit my fault and my neglect that allowed this to happen and it's something I will wear on my head for the rest of my life. But know this, your fate was sealed the moment Ianthe betrayed your sister's trust and leapt into Hybern's bed; though I'm not entirely convinced she hasn't been there for a long time." He gestured around them. "But these people are blameless. They are reaching out to make things easier, so you don't feel alone."

She stood and stepped forward. "Look around; I've been ripped from my home, thrust into this new existence and now all I can do is watch as my sister slowly loses her mind." There was no sadness in her voice, only rage. She wasn't feeling bad for herself, she was furious. "There is nothing I can do, no way for me to fix it. I am alone!"

"It doesn't have to be that way!" He angrily insisted.

"No?" She laughed harshly. "Should I come down for breakfast, lunch and dinner to socialize and dine with **Fae**?" The last word was practically a snarl.

His eyes almost bulged in exasperation. "Look in the mirror, Nesta. You are Fae!"

She growled. "That is different! I had no say in this."

"Neither did we!" He spat back. "How does your own unprovoked prejudice feel thrown back into your face?"

She stood straighter. "Regardless, unlike the rest of you, I am not some cold, unfeeling monster."

His eyes caught fire. "Everything you've done until this point is proof to the contrary." She glared at him. "And this _monster_ fought side by side for humans 500 years ago. What have you ever done for anyone but yourself?"

"I don't owe you any kind of explanation and I refuse to reduce myself by entertaining any belief you have that I give a damn about what you think."

"You really are a selfish, spoiled brat!" He sneered at her, his fantastic, devastating, unwitting mate.

She roared. "Stop acting and speaking like you know me. We are strangers forced onto the same team, unwilling comrades in arms. Nothing more."

For a dangerous second, Cassian wondered how she would react to hear that they were each other's pair, two sides of the same coin. Was it possible she already suspected? Could that be why she was so hostile? He wanted to laugh; it would be hard to tell as Nesta was always hostile regarding him. He wouldn't tell her; of course not. It would be wrong to just heap that on her. "I know enough." He smirked. "I've heard what Feyre has had to say and I see the stubborn princess who refused to actually work to help her drowning family." He pushed.

If looks could pierce, he would stand before his Cauldron-made mate nothing but a skewer. "You know nothing of my struggles, nor of my story simply because you've been exposed to Feyre's biased and limited perception of what took place in our years of poverty. So I will expect you to keep your mouth shut when it comes to things you don't understand."

He almost wanted to know her side; he'd never heard beyond the vague sentences Feyre had related during her arrival at the House of Wind. "That may be true, but how can you defend your complaints of being misunderstood if you refuse to indulge the truth as you know it?"

Nesta's eyes looked wary for the first time since he'd known her; the fight in them vanished. "I don't care if I'm misunderstood or perceived to be a monster. In fact, the more people leave me be, the better. I don't have to explain myself to anyone and I don't want to. View me as you see fit. That's all fine, but do not presume to look at and tell me what you see, claiming it as if it were fact. Believe what you will, it is not my job to dissuade you of your assumptions, no matter how inaccurate they may be." She walked away with no fanfare and no superior tilt of her chin. Her footsteps were shrouded in nothing, but silence and exhaustion.


	3. Battling Grief & Ire

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. This takes place post _ACO_ series. I hope you enjoy. As always, please R&R. Thanks. -Nikki**

* * *

 **Ch. 3: Battling Grief & Ire**

In the month since the fall of Hybern, Nesta had become a shell. Her eyes no longer held the luster that once revealed her fiery spirit. Now she walked, sat and even ate shrouded in a suffocating silence. Cassian thought he was about to lose his mind.

She was mourning her father that much was clear. Elain and Feyre were both at a loss for what to do. As Cassian watched the ghost of his savior eating with no gusto, he still felt that shock fill his everything. It wasn't supposed to be Nesta. She wasn't supposed to break; he had never even been prepared for the possibility. If any of the Archeron sisters were supposed to crumble at the loss of their father, it was meant to be Elain; not that Cassian wanted the sweetest sister to feel that kind of ache, she was simply the most fragile.

Yet here, Nesta, pillar of strength and stubbornness, thief of the Cauldron, slayer of King Hybern, spooned through her breakfast, a husk of dead eyes, muted breaths and non-existent scowls. It was her father; he could understand how much that hurt, but this method of mourning was so foreign to anything he had witnessed before. Nesta didn't even cry; it was as if she couldn't muster up the strength to care. He was losing her, and it terrified him with such severity that every breath for the past month had been pained, silent, but ultimately labored. If he didn't rip her back from the void in time, he didn't know what else he was meant to do.

* * *

"What did you do?" Rhys inclined his brow, looking back at Cassian. The latter had cornered the former in the sitting room. "When you brought Feyre to the Night Court and tried to help her? What did you do?"

The High Lord's expression became solemn, both at the memory and at the understanding of Cassian's fear. "I just made sure that she knew I was there for her." He breathed. "She had to fix herself."

"What if that's not enough? What if being there doesn't get through to her? What do I do then?"

Rhys's eyes widened at the sudden drop of any pretense of discretion. "I needed her help which gave her purpose. I just tried to remind her of who she was. That's all you can do."

* * *

Cassian slowly crept into the library. Nesta sat in her usual chair and though she held a book in her lap, he could clearly see that she wasn't reading. She stared emptily at the floor. After nearly a minute, she looked up and met his eyes.

She closed her own heavily as if they were the weight of the world. Quietly shutting her book, she stood and walked towards him, ready to retreat before even a word had been spoken between them.

Cassian tried to remember what Rhys had said. When she tried to get around him, he gave her shoulder a small shove. 'Let her know you are there for her,' Cassian thought.

"Don't touch me." She said with very little ire.

"Stop it!" He said impatiently. 'Remind her of who she was.' "You are vicious and stubborn." Cassian hoped he was on the right track, but decided to continue, for good measure. "You are one of the harshest people I know. And you are self-centered and arrogant." He tried to think of more adjectives for his list.

She looked up, a little more annoyed. "Did you just come here to insult me?"

"I'm not done!" He barked back. "You are an elitist with two expressions, scowling and glaring. You make terrible first impressions because you're always doing one or the other."

"Are you done yet?" The volume of her voice grew ever so slightly.

"No." He sighed. "You're unpleasant and cruel sometimes, but you are not weak."

She froze. The burn in her faded.

"This is hard for you, but you are not going to let it defeat you. You're too stubborn for that."

"I don't know what you mean."

He lifted his brow. "You want to be sad, be sad. You want to get angry, get angry. Anything is better than this."

"Why would I be angry?" She asked with a light trace of her usually snappish tone.

He knew he'd hit a nerve. "I don't know. You tell me." He waited.

She sighed, seemingly unable to muster the once blazing fight in her chest. "It's nothing. I just want to be left alone."

"That's not going to happen." He asserted. "They don't realize how bad this is eating you up inside. I do." She looked at him questioningly. "I feel it." He admitted.

Her expression immediately grew sour. "I don't care what you think you feel. You are mistaken."

For a split second, Cassian saw the fight return to Nesta's eyes. It wasn't much, but just the right amount to instill him with hope. She started to turn away, in that same snobby way he'd become accustomed to. Firmly, with enough force, he turned her back around and pressed her to the wall in one quick move. "No." He decreed in utter absolute. "You don't get to march away this time, Your Highness. We are having this out, here and now."

His steely voice held her to the wall, while the condescension in it awakened her enough to slap his hand from her body. "I've never seen Rhys treat Feyre this way." She sneered.

"Oh, so now you're acknowledging it?" Again, they were spinning circles around a truth neither one had verbalized beyond Cassian's heavy implications.

"I'm acknowledging that you have this delusional belief." She said pointedly.

"Don't act like you don't feel it. I saw it snap in place-"

Her eyes widened and she nearly hissed. He stopped himself and huffed in an exasperated breath. "No, we're not doing this right now. I'm not going to let you bait me into changing the subject. I know that is what you're doing."

She shoved his chest and he briefly stumbled. "Stop saying that you know; you don't. I'm sick of hearing you say you know who I am, you know what I feel, you know what I think. You don't."

Cassian smiled, taunting her. Now that her eyes were burning again, he could see that it was working. "You are angry; that's what all this is about. Who are you angry with?"

"Other than you? I don't think I have the capacity to harbor any more anger, seeing as you practically deplete me of the emotion."

"Cute – nice deflecting." His humor had vanished. "I understand you better than you realize." She glowered at him. "Maybe you're angry with dear old Dad?" Her eyes briefly widened before quickly narrowing again and he knew that he was getting close. "After all, he's the one who up and got himself killed."

Faster than he'd seen her move all month, Nesta's hand flew and struck him hard across the cheek. To his surprise, the sting reverberated through to every centimeter of flesh her hand connected with. "Me!" She nearly bellowed. "I'm angry with myself. Are you satisfied? Will you finally leave me alone?"

"Why?" He pushed.

She leaned back against the wall. "Because I'm angry at my father."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Hmm. Further proof that you don't know me as well as you claim." He glared and she continued. "I'm still mad with my father for everything that he didn't do. He died coming to our aid and I still can't seem to get past my rage. He was my father. He loved me." She took in a breath. "He died right in front of me and all I can feel is angry." She shook her head. "It made me realize that everyone was right about me." She laughed. It was a cold and cruel sound that made Cassian want to shudder. "And then once I start thinking like that, I feel even more ashamed that my mind goes there. I watched my father's last breath be stolen from his lungs and all I can think about is myself. I haven't even cried for him." Her eyes were glossy, but no tears fell.

He watched her expression, still pained by the disgust he heard in her voice. "I'm sorry." He said softly.

"It's fine!" She barked back.

"You're not a monster."

"Don't-"

"Presume to think I know you? Well, I do." He offered her a small smile. "You are holding on to your anger because it keeps you from acknowledging that he's really gone." He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. She didn't shy away from the touch, just stood still, looking at the ground. "Because you know that when it finally hits you, it's going to hurt more than anything else." She looked up at him, eyes still ablaze but open. "They don't see it, but you loved him most." She opened her mouth to interject, but he continued.

"That's why you were so angry at him, because you believed in him. You needed him growing up; Elain didn't and neither did Feyre. Only you relied on him and he gave up, it broke that part of you." He sighed. "So you can't forgive him or you'll remember how much you loved him."

Nesta's stony eyes betrayed her emotion. He wasn't sure if she was going to cry, but he wasn't about to give her the chance. Pulling her into a deep embrace, he protected himself from the sight of her tears, second only to his need to protect her from letting her vulnerability be seen by another.

Shockingly enough, she allowed the intimate touch, going so far as to lean into it ever so slightly. "I'm not crying." She said, fully aggravated. "I am fine."

He let his hand pet her soft hair; a gentle hum in his voice as he murmured. "I know, I know."

After a minute of silence, he tugged on her hair a little bit. "Good Nesta. Tough Nesta. Vicious Nesta."

She shoved him away, releasing a grunt of disgust. "The one time I don't completely loathe you … You have to ruin everything, don't you?"

The truth was that Cassian didn't know how much longer he could've held her close like that without needing to kiss her. He gave her a crooked grin and loved the hiss she gave in reply. She turned on her heel and he breathed a sigh of relief at the heavy, angered stomp of her feet, thankful that the magnificent monster had returned.

He walked down the hallway, outwardly smug without intention. Amren came from the other direction, stopping in front of him. She spared a glance from the way she came. Turning back around to face him, she lifted her head to meet his eyes. "It seems you've revived the monster."

"Ironic coming from you." She scowled causing him to smirk. "It was no easy feat." He shrugged.

"I doubt that. You have a true talent for infuriating women." She smirked, strutting passed him.

Knowing she was right, he decided not to bite back.

* * *

Nesta had broken out of her lifeless reverie to be sure. In many ways, he counted it as a win. She scowled again and spoke. A little bit of fire had trickled back into her eyes and it was all great, but it was not enough. The loss of her father no longer left her dragging her feet and averting eye contact, but still she had not become accustomed to her new life away from her old home.

They had fewer enemies to worry about, but Elain and Nesta could not return, not as they were now and would forever be. It was time to adjust to life in Prythian, in the Night Court. Even if Nesta could reawaken the vivacity she had once possessed, her whole world was starting anew and this time there were no tasks or impending war to save her from her own thoughts. Cassian knew that what she truly needed was to become not necessarily resigned, but ready for the existence that now stretched before her. She needed routine, something to ground her, to place her focus and effort into.

He had tried countless times before, but now he wondered if he could get her to see the value in training by his side. Of course, he hungered for any of her time, but it was more than that. He wanted to remind her of her own strength and help her build upon it. Luck and her younger sister was all that had saved them in the past; if it ever came to that again, it wouldn't be enough.

* * *

As long as she fought with him and kept up appearances through her bickering, she didn't have to think about it. That agonizing pull deep inside her chest, yanking and tearing at her soul as if a part of it had fled her body at birth and now was hiding inside the lumbering Illyrian War General, calling to her, pulling and promising she could breathe again once her soul was whole. It made her sick to her stomach.

It hadn't been this bad when she was human; she had felt this warmth, a simmering but muted heat that made her spirit squirm in her body. Even so, it was easier to withstand, like an unspoken, prohibited attraction that though she couldn't ignore, she would never verbalize.

When she had been made that horrific day, it wasn't just the betrayal to Elain and her, or the disorienting feel of her perfected body that caused her agony, but the sudden tug that scraped across the floor as she briefly felt it, Cassian's gut-wrenching, indescribable pain.

It had taken her a long time to understand what the sudden feeling of lacking had meant. She had never felt incomplete until he had come crashing into her life. She only experienced it later in Velaris, when for a second she heard his voice in her head and she could finally put a name to this feeling. The ache of never realizing a piece of her was missing until she recognized him wearing it, like a medal of honor. Mate, that's what he was. A primal title for an even more primal being somehow linked to her through a comedic twist of fate.

It all just made her more wary of him. Slowly, but still too quick for her to notice, he was always around, reinforcing her own epiphany.

After the battle when she had noticed his wound, she was shocked by her own worry. Kneeling down beside him, wrapping his thick arm in bandages, she felt the warmth of his gaze and his flesh pulsing throughout her, as if their skin was one in that fragment of time. When she looked up and met his eyes, she could finally read his stare, as if a befuddling and continual enigma had been translated right before her.

He needed her. The only other person who'd ever needed Nesta was Elain, but even then it wasn't a role that only she could fill. This was. Even more, he didn't simply need her, he wanted her. What surprised Nesta most was how deeply the feeling pleased her. For once, she didn't mind that he was her mate, she was almost thankful.

When Mor spoke and broke that fragile spell between them, the fleeting minute was gone, leaving the sour taste of her foolishness on her tongue.

* * *

Honestly, he knew what she needed was an outlet. Elain had her garden, but all Nesta had were books. It was a hobby that under simpler circumstances he would never disparage; however, in her case it only seemed to enable her solitude. She needed a push.

Cassian cornered her in the library, as had become a custom between them. Her bladed blue gray orbs sliced him upon his entrance. "What do you want?"

The bite in her voice had almost entirely returned and he couldn't hide his grin to hear its homecoming. "I have come bearing a proposition."

"The eerie smile on your face leads me to believe it is something for your benefit, in which case I vehemently refuse."

He felt his grin threaten to grow in size, but fought it off, knowing it would only put her off what he had to say even more. He cleared his throat and tried to sound as professional as he could manage (therefore, not very much at all). "We've talked about this before and though there was some disagreement, I think enough time has passed that we might be able to compromise."

"So you've finally decided to drop dead?"

"Oh, Nes." He chuckled.

Her head whipped at him so quickly, he was surprised it didn't detach from her exquisite throat. He breathed in any sense of civility that still existed in the atmosphere between them before trying again. "I know you've been apprehensive in the past, but you should let me train you."

She went back to her book as if the words coming out of his mouth were total and utter rubbish, not meant to be heard by other living beings. "You rarely train your powers with Amren, there is no time restraint now and it would be beneficial to your adjustment here." The last notion made her sick to her stomach. "It will center you and give you a routine."

She rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, Nesta. You need this."

"I don't." He raised his brow. "My answer to both statements."

He sighed, a little hurt by the first. "Training will make you stronger, more prepared."

"Prepared for what? Have we not yet bought peace?" She sneered. "Wasn't that the whole point of this war?"

He gave her a curt nod. "Yes and it will suffice for now. But see, that is the tricky thing about immortality; peace for several human generations can still run out in our lifetime. As you have said before, I make my living off the guarantee that peace will not last." She searched his expression, not sure if she wanted to see offense or not. "Complacency is an ally to your opponent." She stood still, uncertain if she should take him up on his offer. His tone became pointed. "You should know this better than anyone." Her eyes snapped up to look at his face. "You and I almost died not two months ago."

"A lot of good your training did you then." She sniped.

"I was injured and distracted and though neither are an adequate excuse, it is a very rare circumstance." He released a breath. "It was only thanks to your sister for severely wounding the King, that you could finish the job. If she hadn't caught him off guard, we would be dead. With odds like that, do you really want to gamble your life on the promise of peace?" She remained stoic. "What about Elain's?" She quickly moved, whether to shove or strike him, he didn't know. He easily sidestepped her attack.

He latched on to the only thing that would provoke such a reaction. "You think you can protect her moving as slow as you do now?" Faster, but still too slow to even graze him, she swung again. "I'm going to have to put a sentry on her door, because you would fail to keep your sister safe from the smallest of threats." He dodged again.

She grunted in frustration. "Shut up."

"Make me." He challenged. "Hit me even one time and I will." She threw her arm at him again. "In a world like this, you should've been trained long ago." He averted another swing. "If you had been taught properly, you could've saved your sisters." She was coming at him harder now. "You could've been stronger and fed your family." Each statement was met with an unfulfilled blow. "Even if your father failed, you could've protected them." He could see she was already tiring. Sweat now clung to her brow, traces of it starting to bleed onto her pale blue dress.

"You already need a break and you haven't even touched me yet." Her anger seemed to be the only fuel she possessed with any earned endurance lacking. "If you had even the most basic skills, you could've escaped from Hybern's men with Elain." His hand caught her own as the last word slipped from his mouth. He hadn't even realized what he said until she looked at him with an expression that rivalled any anger she had ever thrust his way. Betrayal rang clear on her face; he wasn't sure if the emotion was transparently displayed or if it was his connection to her that made it so effortless to interpret.

She righted the feeling from her face. A hissed breath hitched from her throat. "If," she stressed. "I hadn't so foolishly misplaced my trust in you, we might've found someone more capable to protect us." With her free hand she slapped him across the face, not as hard as she wanted to, but enough to get him to let go. "I win. Now shut your mouth and leave me be." She walked past him, out of the library and in the direction of her room.

* * *

After she did not come down for dinner, Cassian knew with absolute certainty that on his quest to help his case, he'd really hindered it. Later in the evening, after many had left or gone to sleep, he ventured to the library in hopes of leaving a note.

She sat in her claimed seat perusing over a book. She looked up and heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm not looking for a re-match. My win was meant to secure your silence."

He stepped closer with caution. "You couldn't have thought I meant forever."

At the sound of his voice, she scowled. "Well, I certainly hoped."

He stopped short and leaned against a shelf. "In hindsight, I may have approached the subject poorly." She pointedly looked back to her book. "Despite my attitude, this is important and I do take it very seriously."

She slammed her book onto her lap. "Is there a point to whatever it is you are saying?"

"I believe it is vital that everyone, especially a woman as strong as you, knows how to fight. You should never have to rely on anyone else to protect you."

"I only accepted the offer that you extended." She bit back.

"I'm not-" he sighed, taking another tactic. "The fact that I failed to do as I promised should be proof enough to you that it is better to hold the power to save yourself."

"Are you finished? I'd like to return to my book."

He looked down. "I want to protect you as best I can, but the only way for me to do that is to make sure that you know how to fight on your own." His eyes met hers again. "I like to train early in the morning, usually before sunrise. I hope you consider joining me."


	4. Training Control & Desire

**Ch. 4: Training Control & Desire**

The next morning Cassian waited longer than usual to begin. Just as he resigned himself to her absence, Nesta walked in with her natural authority. He was nearly stunned to see her dressed in typical Night Court fashion. She was wearing pants and though it was more modest than most outfits of its kind, her midriff was still peeking through.

"What made you change your mind?" He pushed.

"I need to make sure that she is never hurt or violated like that again."

"What about you?"

"If I am strong enough to protect her, I am not worried about myself." He nodded. "So, where do we begin?" She asked.

"Usually, I would gage your strength and fitness levels by sparring with you, but we're not there yet." He shook his head.

"You're saying I'm not even an entry level pupil?" She seethed. "How can you say that without even testing me?"

"I know all I need to about your abilities. You're fast." He offered. She stood a little straighter. "For a human, but you are not human anymore. You have a new body; strength and speed at your disposal that you haven't even begun to tap into. We have to start with the basics." She nodded, trying not to argue with him so early into her lesson. "We'll meet every day."

"Every day?" She barked back.

"For now, yes." He stood taller than she ever remembered. "The foundation is your form, posture. Pretty much, all the boring but necessary stuff. After that becomes second nature, I'll ease up on the frequency of your regimen." He smiled playfully. "This is what I do. I am the great trainer and you the lowly pupil." She glared. "You need to remember that. In fact you might even need to recite it if I see fit." She scoffed. "That's the hierarchy."

"I bet you love taking advantage of that, since it eludes you in every other facet of your life." She snidely commented.

He arrogantly glanced her up and down. "Nesta, again you forget. I am the General of the Night Court's powerful army. I have the most prestigious title in all the places that matter." He winked. "Now, let's begin."

* * *

Nesta was nearly 2 weeks into her 'training' and all she had done were some exercise drills (which were somehow simultaneously grueling and boring), practice getting into a fighting stance and if she was lucky, he'd let her hit a punching bag. Quite frequently she'd practiced moving low on the mat. She didn't understand what half of it was for.

More often than not, she kept quiet, though it was hard. She was starting to reach her limit and Cassian could see it. "Are we ready to move on?"

She groaned. "Yes."

Without warning, Cassian shoved Nesta. She hit the padded wall behind her. "You're not listening." He chided in a singsong taunt.

Nesta, who was both relatively inexperienced and wholly undisciplined, couldn't stop herself when she lunged back at Cassian. He didn't budge in the slightest.

He smirked antagonistically. "Now, why didn't that work for you?"

She scowled in response.

"Come on, Nesta. Why couldn't you push me over when I had no problem knocking you off your feet without even trying?"

She seethed, wanting to rake her fingernails down his face as she remembered the answer he was no doubt looking for. She recited through clenched teeth, nearly choking on her sarcastic cadence. "Because you are the great trainer and I, the lowly pupil."

He broke out in a grin. "Wow, Nes." He shook his head. "False modesty is not a flattering shade on you." He knew it was alone in such a category. "I just lost a bet with myself that I would never get you to say it. Got to say, I'm a little disappointed." She balked and he swallowed down a laugh before continuing.

"I stayed put not because I'm physically stronger, though I am; or because I'm tougher, though I am; nor because I'm more charming, though I definitely am."

Nesta's eyes rolled so far into the back of her head, she thought she might lose her sense of sight. "Could it be due to your long windedness? That seems to play a large part in everything you're capable of, such as talking, talking, spouting your delusions of grandeur and of course, talking."

A genuine smile erupted across his face brightening his usually smug features as a warmth filled his eyes. "Touché." He conceded. "But yet again, no. It's because I planted my feet. Just like I told you to. Because of that, my balance was reinforced, while yours was nonexistent. There is a reason I taught you the basics. I'd like for us to move on, but if you can't promise me that you intend to retain even the seemingly insignificant stuff, then we won't."

She wanted to be angry, but she knew he was right. He was training her for a reason and it did neither of them justice if they didn't do it right the first time.

The next day, Nesta began with her drills. Cassian slowly put on his mitts giving her a predatory gaze. As soon as she finished, he slapped his mitts together as an invite.

When she moved to strike, one of the mitts came at her, hitting her right in the gut. "Remember your form. Don't forget what you've already learned." He chided as she stumbled.

As she stood tall again, he gave her an appreciative glance. "Now, are you ready?" He asked simply. She nodded. "Good. Let's begin."

* * *

They were a month and a half into their training when Cassian told Nesta he planned to 'expand' their sessions. "What the hell does that mean?" She heatedly barked.

He smirked at the irritated tone. "I'm going to bring some people in."

She scoffed, wiping sweat from her brow. "I don't want an audience."

"And I don't intend to give you one." He pushed his damp hair from his face. Breathing loudly, he continued. "They won't be watching, they'll be joining."

"Excuse you?"

"Not all at once, not yet. We'll build up to that. I need to see you spar with others."

"Why exactly?"

"For one, I can observe better if I'm not on the receiving end of your blows. Also, I need to see how you adapt to different skill sets."

"I don't know how I feel about that." She responded stoically.

"I'm going to need you to get your feelings together, because this is the next step in your training. This is how you're going to move forward." She only groaned in reply.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. "It will help you improve. This is for your progress, not to torture you." She looked up and he could read the reluctant understanding in her eyes as she nodded. "That's just an added bonus." He teased.

She smacked his hand away and shoved him. To his surprise and her pleasure, he stumbled. She stood a little taller, clearly pleased with herself. "Who do you suggest first?"

"I would say Feyre. She has the least amount of formal training."

She scowled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"I need to set you up against someone with a similar amount of experience. Everyone else has at least 500 years on you both." Her scowl remained. He huffed. "Okay, we'll alternate." He compromised. "Feyre first."

"If your High Lady considers herself up to the task, I accept." Nesta was confident. Feyre had trained before her, but not as long as her. She knew that her younger sister hadn't been back to practice since the war had ended a few months before.

"This isn't a match, Nesta." He chided, ignoring his urge to smirk at her misguided competitiveness.

"I know." She acknowledged. "When do you want to start this experiment?"

"Next week. After that, we'll go down to 5 days a week."

"Fine."

"Okay." He clapped his hands together. "Let's work on defense." She scoffed causing him to squint and speak sarcastically. "You're welcome for the break."

"I thought that was for you." She snidely remarked.

"You were sweating." He accused.

"As were you." She reminded him. "At least I wasn't out of breath."

"Would you like to be?" He smirked with suggestive brows.

She ignored him and began her drills.

* * *

During the next week, Nesta continued her training with Cassian. For two days, Feyre joined them, practicing with her. Though they weren't in an 'actual match', the older sister definitely felt that she would've been the winner if that had been the case. Feyre had more strength than Nesta knew and though it was a challenge to face off against her, she was faster, though just barely.

The next three days were with Azriel. Nesta preferred him as an opponent because, although he was unfairly easy on her, he had much more experience to pass on to her. Afterwards she knew that there was only one other assistant that Cassian would want her to practice with and unfortunately for her, it was the only one she didn't want to.

Mor's brow displayed her challenge as she sparred rhythmically with Nesta. It surprised Cassian, to say the least, to observe how skillfully the latter moved against the former.

It wasn't as if she hadn't proved herself as of late. She more than held her own against Azriel and Feyre. While his High Lady was capable, she had become rusty, not to mention that she was also an amateur. Azriel however, had gone easy on her. The General could estimate his friend's effort (or lack thereof) solely from his posture. He gathered Nesta had noticed and though it may have irked her, she said nothing, allowing the Shadowsinger to challenge her at barely half capacity.

This was vastly different. Her movements were focused and crisp, but the most significant alteration was her opponent. Mor wasn't holding back, at least, not as much as she should've been. It was a sight to behold, his old friend in a match. There was something inexpressibly fluid and artistic about her every action.

He remarked on Mor's smooth and efficient approach, quickly assessing her opponent. There was a reason she was Rhys's number three. Strategy fueled her entirety and it showed in her confident stance and predictive reasoning. It was a talent that couldn't be taught, even so, he pointed it out just the same, hoping that Nesta would understand the ultimate advantage it gave in a fight.

When the clock struck 8, Mor left. Nesta stood taller and insisted she still had energy left. Cassian was more than willing to end their training early, but his pupil's vehement denial persuaded him to allow the session to continue. He took Mor's place training against Nesta. It had been nearly a week since the two of them had faced off and he noticed something different that had seemed nonexistent before.

Cassian tried to not laugh watching her. Nesta was definitely a promising student; her fitness level for a former human with a sedentary lifestyle was impressive, she was economic with the energy she exerted in more complex moves and she was fast on her feet, able to alter her movements to different situations. That was all fine and a joy to watch, but what had him biting away a smile was the intensity and severity she poured into her offensive moves.

She barely practiced her blocking, focusing mainly on the attack. Originally, he thought it was just a reflex, a flaw in her understanding of combat, but he remembered how she had sparred with Feyre, Azriel and Mor. She had backed her defense and blocks like he had taught her, only to ignore it all when facing him. Nesta came at him with every ounce of her strength, determined to take him down, even if it meant neglecting her own defense.

She paid attention to nothing but attack, her eyes filled with a silent screaming war cry. It was as if she wanted to bring him to the mat by any means necessary. It was, dare he think, adorable?

And it was, at first. As their solo session continued on with her repeatedly making the same mistake, his adoration became replaced with irritation and beyond that, fear. Maybe it was his original taunt. "I know you're dying to experience what it's like to be on top of me," he said with a cocky grin. "But focus on your blocking. You're making this too easy." He sighed, the humor fading. "Again!"

After the 5th time, his patience with her was nonexistent. "Nesta!" He shouted and her eyes narrowed. She was determined to win by her own method if only to prove him wrong.

"I'm serious. You're desire to take down your opponent should be your strength, not your weakness. You need to be making smart choices in a life or death situation." She went down again. "You're dead." She breathed sharply, all stubborn wrath. "You're dead again, only now the enemies have breached your lines, because you weren't thinking."

He could see the frustration on her face and knew that his expression was mirrored. "You're dead. You failed this court." Thud. "You failed innocent humans." Another thud as she was thrown to the ground.

She came at him again, this time releasing a growl he had never heard before. Her body went down with a heavy crash that if she was mortal would've resulted in serious injuries. "You're dead again. This time you failed Elain." Nesta hissed in response.

"You're gone. Who is going to protect her?" His voice came down heavy on her. "We're done for today. You can't take instruction and its pissing me off." He sighed; looking down at her still sprawled on the floor. "We can try again tomorrow if you are ready to listen." He turned and headed for the door.

She moved so fast he didn't have a chance to hear her approaching his flank. She kicked at the back of his leg, bringing him to his knees. He growled and blocked her oncoming punch. He was up quickly and released any restraint. "I said we're done!"

She finally was blocking his swings, though more out of necessity than obedience to his methods. "I'm not ready to be done."

"Tough. I refuse to teach someone who doesn't listen. You're pissing me off too much for me to be objective."

"What? Afraid you're desire to take me down will make you lose focus?" She goaded.

He snorted and again hid his grin. "I'm no amateur. I'm afraid you'll see what it's like to face off with a pissed Illyrian War General." Huffing, he blocked another attack and jabbed at her side. "Anger distracts you. It empowers me."

He avoided her lunge and she fell. Before he could move she jumped back up. "Why are you so angry?" She scoffed, her breathing labored. "I though sparring was supposed to be fun?" She mocked.

"If you're learning from the process, it is. Jumping your instructor because he deems you unfit to fight, not so much."

"Then why are you smiling?" Nesta countered. The cocky tone of her voice held little weight as she scrambled for breath.

She may have been tired, but she moving quick as she feigned left, socking him in the jaw with her right. It was Cassian's distraction that made the move possible. He hadn't realized that he had been smiling.

The point of victory quickly went to her head as she lunged again, not remembering to sidestep his own attack. "There is nothing fun about what happens if you ignore these rules in an actual battle. You die." He dodged an attack. "I fear you aren't taking this seriously."

"Why fear?" She teased. "Why so serious?"

Grabbing one of her wrists, he barked. "Don't condescend to me." He captured the other wrist and moved it into his already occupied hand, restraining both of her hands in one of his. Cassian slammed her back against the padded walls, holding her pinned hands above her head with his other hand wrapped around her throat, not applying any pressure. He wasn't trying to choke her, but to remind her just what it meant when an opponent had her trapped. His body was flush with hers to make sure her knee did not become reacquainted with his groin. "You know why."

He stared into her unnervingly hypnotic eyes, loving the feel of her powerful and small body beneath his. He wanted to move (or at least he wanted to want to move) and he would've if she hadn't inhaled a breath that was so sharp but so unsure that it uttered as a sigh.

It wasn't that Nesta meant to sigh, but the feel of his impressive heat pressed tightly against her had completely caught her off guard. Her body was an inferno in every fragment of skin he touched. It coursed through her veins, towards the focal point of his hand on her neck. The callused hand grated at the soft and sensitive skin in a way so commanding it stole her breath. Despite how much she hated him in that moment, she imagined those sturdy, rough hands navigating all across her untouched flesh. The thought shocked her so fully it caused her gasp.

Ever so slightly, she leaned into the feel of his coarse thumb, trying to ignore the memory it recalled of how she would see stray cats act while in heat. In that moment she understood that desire, that purely animal need for touch. Although for her, it wasn't just any touch she ached for, it was this touch.

She couldn't process the notion, because suddenly Cassian's lips were on hers. So different than before, this was not a goodbye kiss, but something determined and untamed. He couldn't stop himself when his stunning and infuriating mate sighed in his arms, shifting herself into his touch. Even the smell of her sweet perspiration was driving him mad. He knew that he had to taste her lips just one real time if he wanted to experience any satisfaction. Letting go of her hands and throat, he cradled her chin while his other hands gripped the shirt fabric on her side, his white knuckles wrapped and lost in the damp cotton. He was afraid she might push him away, but she didn't.

When he felt her moan into his mouth, his blood became red-hot scalding flames that screamed her name. He lost all sense of reality when he felt her fingers sift through his hair and her nails scrape at his scalp. The sensation deliciously bit him with a pleasurable sting that caused his pants to become all too tight, inadequate for the beast they housed. His labored breathing joined with hers.

Much, much too soon, Nesta yanked herself away, ignoring the ache she had to wrap her legs around him and writhe against his width. Her blood promised that the pulsing warmth in her core would be satiated if she simply gave in to the need. She hurriedly distanced their bodies, her voice more unsure that he had ever heard it before. "What the hell was that?"

She met Cassian's eyes to find he was more out of breath and the confusion ran even deeper on his face. "I know why I did what I did." He offered, ever the eloquent conversationalist. "But why did you do what you did?"

She stood there breathless and unequipped to answer the question. He tried to slow his intake of air, but found it difficult when looking to Nesta for her reply. Her mussed hair, swollen lips and blushed chest. The sight was so astounding, that he thought he might pass out from the lack of blood reaching his brain. "I-" She ran out of the room.


	5. Pact of Ink & Flesh

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. We're halfway done. This was one of my favorite chapters to write and definitely one of the first. I liked putting Cassian and Nesta on a sort of equal footing, because I feel like they rarely are. I will admit that there is a slightly altered character, though it was my intent. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. As always, please R &R. It means more to me than you could guess. Thanks so much - Nikki**

* * *

 **Ch. 5: Pact of Ink & Flesh**

Somehow, Nesta was able to avoid Cassian for the rest of the day. She never ventured out of her room and much to her relief; he never came to her door. The building desire she had felt for the Illyrian General had been clawing her from the inside out for as long as she could remember. Nesta had spent her whole life ignoring her emotions, it kept her from drowning in them, but after that morning she knew there was no avoiding that cosmic and detestable pull that dragged her to him. He set flames in her skin and pretending no longer seemed to work.

She sat on her bed and tried to forget how the concentrated passion between them made her feel ill. The word for what he was, the connection between them was whispered on the air, though she willed it away. She had never said it aloud, but she knew the truth of it, just as he clearly did. The weakness in her was unwelcome and it reeked of his name.

Much later that night, she snuck out of her room. Fueled by the empty ache in her stomach, she quietly slipped into the kitchen. After she had staved off her hunger, she felt him. It wasn't just his scent or the familiar sound of his surprisingly soft breathing; she actually felt his presence in her flowing blood.

She tried to ignore the desire to freeze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of rattling her so. Taking in a soft breath that she hoped he couldn't hear, she turned. "What are you looking at?"

Cassian stilled at the irritated sight of her. He could imagine how livid the whole situation had made her. He would've left it all be, but after holding her and kissing her, he couldn't ignore their bond anymore. "So, are we going to talk about it?" He asked softly, not fully meeting her gaze.

She wanted to be able to play dumb, but the question was a trap. If she acted as if she didn't know what he was talking about, he would speak frankly, but if she admitted to that feeling, she would also be laying her cards on the table. Either way, it was a truth that was going to be acknowledged. Whether or not he put her in the position on purpose, it was still a trap. She explained as much.

He released a throaty chuckle. "Saying so does even more to show your hand. Do you want to talk about it?"

Nesta finally met his penetrating gaze. "I have some questions."

"I'd be more surprised if you didn't." He offered.

"I'm not talking about u-" She stopped herself. "You and I." She breathed shallowly. "Everything about Fae culture is foreign to me. I hadn't even heard of mates," the word was exposed, revealing the truth of the matter. She did her best to continue without squirming at the intimate nature of the conversation they were both now trapped in. "Until you mentioned it to me. I have very few examples to draw from. So I guess what I want to know is what does it mean?"

He smirked. "Even we don't completely know. Many argue that it is a biological connection meant to result in powerful offspring." She couldn't help but blush at the idea that that was the reasoning behind the pull she felt toward the Illyrian War General standing before her. "Others say it is a bond similar to what humans refer to as soul mates."

Nesta nodded. "So, what do you believe?"

He shrugged. "I'd like to believe the latter." Her blush deepened ever so slightly. Cassian opened his mouth and closed it. He looked down and continued. "I'd be lying though if I didn't admit that there has been some proof to support the former."

"What kind?"

"Mainly mates with terrible or toxic relationships. Mates who aren't happy or even good together for some reason or another."

"Such as?"

"Tamlin of the Spring Court. His parents were mates in title, but hardly in behavior. All their offspring were very powerful. Even Rhys, his parents were an awful match, but he is-"

"The most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history." She finished for him, a little bewildered by the notion.

"Exactly."

"Every High Fae and Illyrian has a mate?"

He huffed. "Usually, no. It was once said to be a rare bond, which is why the high volume of mated couples is baffling."

"So, this 'thing' is rare?" She slowly looked at him, hating how bashful this conversation was making her feel.

Cassian peeked from beneath his lashes, his eyes soft and his grin cocky. "I'd certainly say so."

Nesta ignored what was now transforming into a leer. "What does this mean?"

He approached the counter and leaned beside her. He crossed his arms and nudged her. "It means whatever we want it to mean."

"And what is that?" She turned her head, letting it rest on her shoulder, her eyes soft, but contemplative. "What do you want it to mean?"

His velvet hazel eyes answered her question. His lips pursed and his voice was a husky whispered rhetorical question. "What do you think?"

She felt him leaning in and knew she would soon do the same, so she whipped her body around so they were both opposite from where they started. She stood straighter, determined to regain some of the composure she had let slip from her grasp. "What happens?"

Cassian smiled at her unnecessarily over-the-top evasive maneuver. "Well, both mates choose whether or not to accept the bond."

"Wait, so you can reject the bond?" Although curiosity was what propelled the question, she recognized the noticeable hurt in his eyes.

For the first time, his cockiness fully faded away as he looked down. "One member or both can choose to refuse the bond."

She tried to provide some much unfamiliar levity. "Aren't you tempted?"

He looked back at her with a soft smile. "I'm an open book."

She could see right then, that in some ways, he really was. "Okay, so hypothetically, say both accept. What happens next?" She wasn't sure if marriage was as customary in Prythian as it was in the human world.

He had the decency to look almost bashful. "Then one usually leaves the mates alone. For several days, sometimes weeks, maybe even months."

"Oh." The prospect slightly terrified Nesta, mainly because of how much it called to her boiling blood.

"Yeah."

"When does this decision need to be made?"

He barked out a laugh that interrupted the soft volume they had maintained until then. "There's no time limit, Nesta."

Their eyes met at the sound of her name. She thought for a second as her posture became fully erect as she took in a commanding breath. "I have a proposition."

The familiar and stoic tone in her voice made him wary. "Keep talking."

She allowed herself a small smirk. The truth was that every grain of her being wanted to accept, something she had realized long before when she had awaited his return from the battlefield. They had grown so in sync during the war. She now knew that it was the fragility of the moment that made it easier for her to become soft to him. Peace had allowed her to harden like the quickly forming scab over the vulnerability she had recently worn. Everything had been so intense over the past few months that she wasn't sure how many of their moments could've been caused by adrenaline or actual substance. It seemed too soon to make such a commitment, so she decided to test her prospective mate.

"You want me to accept, yes?"

He growled slightly and she inclined her brow, waiting for a more verbal answer. "I would be honored if you would be so magnanimous as to bestow me with your approval." His sarcasm coated the air around them.

Her smirk reappeared, needing to take back the control that had fumbled from her hands in his presence. "Well, I might be inclined to accept if I deem this a suitable match."

"Are you putting me on probation?" He scoffed, flabbergasted.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

He groaned. "Oh, this is going to be exhausting."

"Easy, soldier." She huffed. "It's not as if I'm asking you to be sweet to me."

"Good, because I wouldn't know how." He joked.

She cleared her throat, commanding his undivided attention. "I was born human, with a mortal soul. I have my own perception of what a good match is." Cassian was starting to look a little confused. "You want me?" He growled again and she had to suppress a shiver. "If you really do want me, then you need to understand that the human inside is a large part of who I am. She needs to be convinced."

There was a stretching silence between them, before he blurted. "Cut to the chase."

"I want you to court me."

He choked on a cough. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." She bit back. "Where I come from, the only way two people can know they are actually suited for one another is if they take the time to get to know each other. I think it's only fair that you attempt this human concept to get me to accept this Fae one. Like I said, the human in me needs to be convinced. I refuse to rush into anything, until I'm sure." She huffed. "I'm not certain how much of these feelings I should trust, if I should even trust them at all."

He took one step and was able to close in on her. "Tell me what feelings. I'll know which ones you should trust." He leaned in, both hands on the countertops on either side of her body, effectively trapping her. "I'll even know which ones you should act on."

"I'm so sure." She grunted, willing her heart to beat slowly. "I'd advise you to retreat from my personal space, lout. Or I will remove you myself. I am a pupil of an Illyrian War General after all."

"Oh, really? Is he any good?" He waited for a boost to his ego.

"No, he's absolute rubbish. I've been trying to get a new tutor to no avail."

He smirked. "Well, if that's true, then I have nothing to worry about."

"I wouldn't say that." She pushed off the counter and leaned forward letting their chests brush. "So, do you accept my proposition?"

"I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into."

"Precisely my point." She replied, straight-laced and formidable.

"I could always give you a small sneak peek if you feel so inclined." He winked.

Nesta was amazed by her own gall as she looked towards his groin with a tilted head and furrowed brow as if focusing hard enough would make it possible for her to judge the length that hid beneath his clothes. "How small, I wonder?"

Despite himself, Cassian actually laughed. "Explain it better and I'll accept your offer."

"I need you to prove to me that this is more than just some preordained cosmic set up to produce strong offspring. Prove that this is more than instinct."

"How?"

"I can't answer that for you."

He huffed. "Fine." He held out his hand. "Deal."

"Deal." They shook on it and Nesta gasped as black ink sprawled itself from her left wrist, weaving through her fingers. The majority of the tattoo drenched her palm with soft tendrils. She looked up to find that Cassian had a matching mark. "Damn it!" She cursed; knowing all too well the law of bargains in the Night Court after her youngest sister explained the marks that marred her own skin.

"Yeah, didn't really think that one through, did you?" He smirked, inspecting his new tattoo.

"How is this my fault?" She sighed. "I thought you didn't possess the same magic as the others." She should've been safe from any mark knowing that her bargain was made with a common born Illyrian.

He looked at her ink adorned hand and tried to decipher some explanation. "It seems likely that…" He shook his head.

"What?"

"Well, I heard Rhys talk about it before. The House of Wind possesses an unrivalled power to restrict magic. Apparently, that means it can tap into it too."

"What?" She shot back.

"The magic that is withheld from its occupants doesn't just disappear. It is stored here."

She scoffed and hissed. "I swear, your people with your magical and mischievous houses. If only you stubborn Illyrians would just acknowledge the benefits of paper contracts..."

"Paper can be destroyed in a million different ways with little effort."

"Then use magic! Enchant some parchment." She grumbled. "You'd think with how often magic is abused here, people would learn how to use it practically."

"Flesh is just more permanent, I guess. At least, ours is." He shrugged.

"I remember the war." She looked down at his chest where there had been a gaping hole and she couldn't forget the feeling of experiencing the internal mirror image of his injury. She remembered her chest feeling like it was being torn out of her. "And I can promise you, that from where I stood, that's not true, not at all."

He studied her in the silence, until she pushed the memory away. "It just seems a little overkill to stain my skin with proof of my bargains. I find it…" she breathed. "Troublesome."

* * *

Cassian decided to hold his next training session without any assistance. After what had happened the day before, he figured it was best not to have an audience.

Nesta walked in as quietly as she ever had. She wore a lavender outfit in the traditional Night Court style. Though it was short sleeved, the majority of her arms were covered with two black fingerless cuffs that nearly reached her elbows.

He obnoxiously smirked when their eyes met. "That's quite a look."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you I found it troublesome."

"Don't you think someone will notice?" He antagonized, pulling his hair up into a bun.

"Why should they? It's not as if I foolishly and purposefully parade mine around as you do yours." He laughed; not surprised she saw it that way. His arms were always concealed by his fighting leathers, except for the few times he was alone with her in training. "All of the sleeves on my dresses are long enough to cover it. There's only risk of discovery during training."

"'Risk of discovery'?" He snorted humoredly. "Bless the Mother, you're dramatic."

"You misunderstand thoroughness and reality." She chided.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"Does anything?"

"Are we starting this session any time soon?"

"Nesta, if you want to touch me, all you have to do is say please."

"Please." She said with a theatrical and overly sarcastic bat of her eyelashes. He froze in absolute stupor at the sickeningly sweet expression she wore seconds before gut-punching him. "Ready yet?" She taunted.

He glared at her, hand clutching his gut. "That was a cheap shot."

"I learn from the best." She antagonized; her self-satisfied grin lighting up her face.

He could see the energy bubbling around her. For the first time since he'd known her, Nesta was having fun. It wasn't a raging fire in her eyes, but a playful one and he adored the distinction.

"Oh, come on." The excitement fading in her voice. "You'll live."

"I have no doubt. It's you I'm more worried about. Did you learn anything after yesterday?"

"Did you?" She countered, poised to pounce.

He just barely licked his bottom lip while leering at her. He let out a deep and soft groan of confirmation. "You have soft lips, a feverish kiss and roaming hands." In his eyes she saw a dance of deadly intent.

Her annoyance rang clear on her face as she charged at him.

* * *

"Feel free to show yourself if you want to talk." Elain called softly, letting the gentle breeze carry her voice most of the way.

Cassian peeked from behind a large tree. He had the sense to look the slightest bit guilty. He hadn't meant to watch her, but she had looked so peaceful that he was sure his lumbering presence would interrupt her silent comfort. Instead Elain smiled kindly back at him. "I'll never get used to it."

He approached slowly and carefully. "Used to what?"

"Being able to feel eyes watching me. The heightened sense of … everything." She shrugged, her attention returning to the soil.

"You already seem pretty used to it. I think it would take most much longer to understand."

"Perhaps." She stilled, her head lifted to the wind, as if tasting a change in the atmosphere.

"Lucien." Cassian unnecessarily answered.

She nodded. "I feel those eyes the most."

"Are they unwelcome?"

Elain's smile reached her serene eyes as she shook her head. "No, they are not." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Little flecks of soft soil fell on her cheek. "He worries; more than most. Come to watch the Archeron made of glass."

"It's more than that." He couldn't help but defend.

"I know." She breathed. "When I first came into his life, mine had just been shattered. He wants to stay close and protect me, but he saw the way a very similar motive caused his High Lord to suffocate my sister; so he gives me space."

He nodded. "I understand his situation."

She turned to face him again. "I know you do." He stilled. "I see more than you all realize, though I keep most of it to myself."

"Does it end well?"

"For him?" She met his eyes. "Or for you?"

He shrugged, trying to mask his concern. "Tell me something good."

She tilted her head in consideration, her presence only partial during her contemplation. "Lucien succeeds. I enthusiastically accept him in time."

"If you know that, why haven't you?"

"Because I'm not ready yet. We have time; he knows this as well as I do and he doesn't begrudge me the least for it. It's still so new; new body, new world, new life. I don't control it as well as my sisters. I am still bombarded by the senses, not to mention the abilities." She spoke with a gentle wisdom, Mother Earth incarnate kneeling in soil.

Cassian took a similar position beside her, cautious to keep his distance from her subjects of the flora variety. "I don't remember you being so vocal."

"Well, you wouldn't because I wasn't. A lot has happened." She began deftly pulling weeds. "We all have been remade, us Archeron sisters, re-forged in immortality and magic. One of starlight, one of blaze and one of glass." The last part was said with a melancholy self-awareness. "It tends to change your perspective."

"Yet you seem the most changed."

"Who I was … was not strong enough to withstand this new life. When the visions came and captured my lucidity, I had to understand and experience a solitary existence. After I was freed from my trance, I knew I had to find strength. My sisters took the change easier, so I had to work harder."

"You seem capable. I think they worry too much."

"I was broken once. They still fear the glue coming undone."

"Will it?"

She shook her head and smiled again. "Seeing the future has made the present simpler to understand. In its own way, foresight has helped me with the transition; it's made me more secure." She cleared her throat and stood, moving to a low rosebush with her pruning shears in hand. "So, when are you going to ask what you came here for?"

Cassian stilled before nodding to himself. "It's about your sister."

Elain nodded. "Not the High Lady, but the Queen without a throne."

He laughed. "Please no riddles."

"You have my words. No riddles."

"Thank you."

"So, you plan to use me to win her favor?"

"No, of course not! I just wanted to learn more about her."

"Too bad. I was going to suggest you pretend to put me in harm's way. Then swoop in and save me at the last minute. That would surely win her gratitude."

"No, I couldn't ask you to – You think that would work?"

Elain laughed. "Undoubtedly, but you possess too much honor to follow through with deception, even if the means are justified by the ends."

He nodded. "Unfortunately."

She laughed again.

"What does she like?"

Her third laugh was a quiet chuckle for herself.

"What is it?"

"That is too mild a notion for Nesta. She doesn't 'like' anything. My older sister tends to deal in absolutes. Love, hate, admiration or contempt. There is no in between."

He gave her a wary look.

"I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." He nodded. "My sister loves to read. You probably thought she simply hid in the library, but did you notice she never clutched the same book to her chest? She devours literature; she always has." She brushed a peeking hair away from her face with her forearm. "I sometimes think it's a means of escaping. When life was hard, she would reread the few books she had; young women of wealth and breeding who never had to wonder if there would be food on the dinner table." Cassian's hands clenched. He had felt hunger more times than he could count, but knowing his mate had to experience it filled him with rage no matter how many times he heard it. "Now, I'm sure she reads of the simple human world we left behind."

"I'm sorry." The apology erupted from his mouth before he even had a chance to interpret it in his mind. Elain's eyes briefly widened in surprise before narrowing in kind understanding. "I meant to say it before, but you were bedridden at the time. I've apologized to Nesta, but you were the one who lost the most. I am sorry my neglect did this to you."

She watched him closely trying to see if he possessed a shred of insincerity. All she found was regret and genuine concern. "It wasn't your fault. Feyre was betrayed by someone she trusted. In that regard, she is guiltier than you."

"That is my High Lady." He defended.

"That is my younger sister and she is not faultless." Her tone was formidable, but she quickly brightened. "I would not blame her for having a trusting heart, nor you for your inability to protect us from a betrayal you couldn't possibly have seen coming. Those at fault have paid for their part and time cannot be undone. From where I stand, we have all made happy lives." She smiled, wearing mischief in her lifted brow. "Or at least, we will."

There was a genuine sweetness in her expression that filled Cassian with a warm, familial affection for her. He was starting to understand Nesta's overbearing love for the middle sister. Elain was as pure of heart as anyone he'd ever met and that kindness radiated around her. Their world was a blessed place with the Archeron sisters in it.

"I don't think I ever remembered to say, 'Thank you,'"

"What for?"

"That day, in battle … you saved us, her. Nesta is alive because of you." His voice became soft. "I'm in your debt."

"There is no debt, Cassian. She is my sister."

He gently inhaled. "How do I get to her?" He implored quietly, masking his desperation as best he could.

She smirked. "I suspect you already have."

He combed his hand through his thick hair. "That is blood, not choice. It isn't relevant to measure her attachment based on a twist of fate."

"Maybe Destiny has forced her onto a path that, without divine intervention, she would be too stubborn to go down herself."

He sighed. "This is making me feel worse."

Elain answered with a knowing arch of her brow. "You fear this a loveless match?"

"I've seen it before. I know it happens, more often than it should."

She turned to face him. "Your fear of such a thing is proof of your genuine investment." She looked at his left leather-clad hand. Cassian shied away from the attention. "It is such proof that she seeks."

He tried to subtly tuck his covered hand away. "How do you know this?"

She shrugged, looking back to her flowers. "You hide your marks well enough from anyone who doesn't already know they are there."

He sighed, suddenly understanding. "Was this entire conversation ultimately pointless?"

"I enjoyed the company." She answered noncommittally.

Cassian shook his head and exhaled. "I'm sorry, it's just frustrating to think that you know what I'm going to do long before I even have the slightest idea."

She released a small breath that resembled a laugh. "I did not see this conversation. Rest easy, General; I only see things of consequence."

He stopped short. "So this bargain is of consequence?"

Elain smiled and lightly shook her head as if to imply she wouldn't indulge the questions he had, for fear of going down the slippery slope of fortune-telling. "What I can say, I will as her sister, not a seer. Nesta is not one to allow herself to be forced in a corner. If she agrees to such a bargain, it means she sees potential in this bond. The fact that she proposed it herself means part of her; a large part of her wants to accept it. However, she will never give her affections foolishly. She must be sure."

Elain met Cassian's eyes and attempted to convey something in her expression. She purposefully looked down at a flower. He followed her concentrated gaze.

The Illyrian War General knew nothing about flowers, but this one seemed special. The deep scarlet made the petals look like decadent velvet. "What is that?"

Elain smiled fondly to herself. "After Dusk." She shook her head. "I was originally apprehensive about growing dahlias because they are so high maintenance. But someone told me that it shouldn't matter when they're worth the effort."

Cassian nodded, they truly were. "Let me guess…"

Elain bobbed and continued. "Regal flowers, dahlias. They express dignity and elegance." She touched the soft petals. "Red dahlias exude power and strength."

Something about the silence in the air told him that he was beginning to impede on her time. "Just let me know if you ever need anything." He offered sincerely to the young woman he was beginning to identify as a sister.

"If I ever need help moving a redwood, you're the first I'll call."

He laughed and excused himself, thankful for the new omniscient ally.

"General," Elain called softly. He turned to face her. Though her body was turned towards him, her eyes stayed on the soil beneath her. "In four days the High Lord and Lady, the Shadowsinger and Princess to the Court of Nightmares will visit Hewn City. Your presence will not be necessary."

"The Hell it won't." He contradicted.

"You really mean to challenge a Seer's abilities to claim you know best?" He sighed. She smiled and finally looked up at him. "Don't worry; nothing bad will happen. Your presence is actually undesired. It is meant to be as simple an outing as possible."

"Is there a reason you're telling me this?"

She nodded and snapped off the deep red dahlia. Standing quickly, she placed it into his hand. "Take this." He grasped the flower. "Write a note inviting Nesta out to Velaris on that same day. Place them both inside a book entitled _Moonfire_."

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment. "What makes you think she'll say yes?"

She gave him a questioning look. "That is her favorite flower." She said simply and walked back to where she'd been kneeling in the dirt.

* * *

If there was ever a task that intimidated Cassian, it was writing a note to Nesta and not just any note, but one asking her for a date, a proper one. He wanted it to seem romantic without being fanciful and sappy. He was no poet and didn't want her to expect otherwise.

His first draft seemed more like a blunt challenge to a duel. It articulated his desire to spend the day with her along the veins of: 'You. Me. Velaris.'

Its lyricism was not lost on him. Though it seemed adequate enough to get the root message across, he decided to add more syllables for good measure, finally settling on:

 _Nesta,_

 _I would be grateful if you would join me on Thursday for a day out in Velaris._

 _Cassian_

It wouldn't make her swoon, but it was a step up from his monosyllabic start and definitely had a better chance of getting her to agree.

* * *

Nesta found the note later that evening. She opened the book and slowly touched the pressed flower. She knew who was to thank for it, until she read the note. The entirety of the Inner Circle, the Archeron sisters, even Lucien knew to never pick flowers from Elain's garden. For Cassian to have acquired her favorite flower, she knew Elain had to have given it to him.

When Elain passed the library on her way to her room, she looked in to see her older sister sitting in her same chair, reading to herself.

"You must think highly of him to let him have a flower from the garden." Nesta remarked, not looking up from her book.

Elain smirked to see her sister devouring _Moonfire_ , a sign that her visions were both accurate and reliable. "A more fitting statement would be that I approve of him."

Her tone gathered Nesta's attention, but she feigned indifference. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." She tugged on her sleeve ever so slightly.

"Of course not." Her voice was light and playfully smug. "How could you? It's not as if _you_ are a seer." She added pointedly before exiting the room.

Nesta watched her sister leave with a feeling akin to embarrassment. She wondered how much she knew and quickly realized that it was probably more than even Nesta herself did. Elain wasn't a gossip, so she decided to put any worry from her mind.

Pulling the note from the front of the book, she reread it again. For nearly two weeks she had been questioning whether or not he had actually changed his mind about courting her. She knew it was most likely a lot to ask from in his culture, but it was a common part of hers, and she wanted to cling to something human.

* * *

Her answer came to Cassian with no fanfare in focused passing of concentrated blows during their training. "Yes," Was all she said.

"Yes?" He tensed, hoping he wasn't foolishly misreading her reply.

"Thursday." She said with a fierce punch to his mitt. "Yes. I should like to see Velaris." She reasoned with muted emotion.

"It's a date." He replied smugly. His smirk grew wider when she glared at him. Nothing else was said on the topic. Cassian knew that if he even tried, she would more than likely ignore him.


	6. Confessing Truth & Shame

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Yay! Date Time! I hope you are enjoying the story and thank you for reading thus far. As always, please R &R, can't say it enough, it truly makes my day. Thanks -Nikki**

* * *

 **Ch. 6: Confessing Truth & Shame**

The company had left earlier in the morning. Cassian decidedly didn't ask questions about the reason for their visit, he was too anxious about his day with Nesta. She entered the sitting room unceremoniously, wearing a cream colored dress, looking like an eternity Cassian had never known he'd always dreamed of.

She said nothing to him as they walked down the seemingly endless stairs. It was only once their feet finally touched the street that she breathed in the cool air, free from prying eyes. This day was meant to rip them from their usual environment, rescuing them both from the roles they had spent years perfecting. There was no other way to get to truly know each other.

Nesta eyed Cassian expectantly. "What?" He inquired defensively, glancing down himself, wondering if she thought he looked ridiculous. He was so used to wearing his fighting leathers, but for once he tried dressing up. The effort hadn't seemed too obvious to himself with his simple juniper tunic and beige pants.

She shook her head; for a second he could see the animated wistful impatience in her eyes and he almost wanted to play with it. "It's customary," she sighed. "Or at least it was, in my village, that a man offers his arm to escort a woman on an outing to town."

He surprised her with a grin. "Well, I'm not going to say no to that." He obliged.

She wrapped her own around the crook of his elbow, ignoring the arrogant glance he was flashing her. They walked in silence for a minute before he huffed. "You know, if I had flown we could have been in the heart of town in a second." It was a missed opportunity, he knew. Flying was a great icebreaker and a casual way to show off not just his wingspan, but his strength and speed as a flyer, even with his re-healed wings.

"I know." She sighed, still looking forward, relishing the sound of every cobblestone her shoes met with.

"That desperate to stretch our time together?" He smirked and lifted his brow suggestively when she met his eyes.

To his dismay, she didn't jump to take the antagonistic bait. She looked ahead to the Sidra, calm and unprovoked. "I never get a chance to walk anymore." It could've passed as a mere observation, but Cassian caught the subtle change in her voice that hinted at significance. He listened intently as she continued. "It's one of the main things that has changed since I became Fae." She shook her head and spoke sardonically. "I can't believe how moronic that sounds. 'When I was reborn, split apart from humanity, the biggest change wasn't my mortality or lack thereof, but how much I walk.'" She scoffed.

He came to her defense. "It isn't surprising that it's the little things you notice most."

"It's not just that." Nesta clarified. "Ever since I was turned, everywhere I go, we either winnow or fly. I never had magic in my life before and now it seems to infiltrate and overwhelm even the most mundane aspects of it, every single day.

"But when I walk, a small part of me remembers what it was like…" she shrugged. "Being human." She looked down at her feet. "Although the steps I take now are softer, longer and more graceful, it's still familiar to me."

"Do you miss it, your home?" He felt idiotic for even letting the question slip out. 'Of course she would,' he thought.

Her voice saved him from his own mental scolding. "I don't know that it really was my home. I don't think I've ever really relied on the concept of home. It's too fleeting an idea, or at least, it was. Now, I'm not so sure." He nodded in understanding. "What about you?"

He looked back at her in surprise. "What about me, what?"

She smirked at how ridiculous that sounded. "What's home to you?"

He looked into her eyes for an extended second and it felt as if the flames lurking inside them were no match for the ones embedded in her scorching cheeks.

Noticing her small squirm, Cassian looked away and smiled. "The House of Wind."

"Why is that home to the Illyrian War General?" She hummed.

His posture elongated with flamboyant pride. "About time you recall my prestigious title." He smiled, easing the playfulness from his voice. "It's because I know that my family can always be found there sooner or later."

Nesta nodded as if she was considering his words. "And that has nothing to do with the fact that no one can winnow in or out?"

He laughed because she immediately understood it, the barrier that magic put between him and everyone else. He shrugged and spoke simply. "It's nice to know that we all come and go the same way." He didn't need to say more when it was clear, both from her observation and her gaze, that she grasped this small part of him that sunk far below the surface in a way that shouldn't have been visible to anyone.

Instead of twisting the knife into his shame, she looked off to the shore. "You're lucky, you know."

He followed the direction of her gaze. "What do you mean?"

She reached out as if she could touch the horizon. "You get to live right next to this. It's almost like the convergence of two worlds."

He smiled with a nod, often feeling the same way. In truth, he had observed as much the first time he had come to Velaris. He walked ahead of Nesta, her arm dropping from his as she watched him lean against the railing. The shimmering water of the Sidra called for his attention as he admired its natural and seamless flow to the sea. "It's funny you would say so. When I first saw Velaris, I remember being spellbound how these two worlds of sky and sea stood alone, but fed into one another at that horizon. Even though I knew better, I wanted to fly out to the edge. That illusive fixed line that held the two realms at bay made the world seem so finite to me, tangible in the way I could see its size. The crazy thing is that when you step back and witness the vastness of the sea stretching ahead, suddenly the world is infinite and untamable." He laughed, looking back at her. "Don't worry, I know I sound crazy." His shoulders bobbed ever so slightly. "I could never get myself to fly out to it. The contradiction was much too charming and the mystery too alluring."

Nesta stood beside him, her fingers gracefully draped over the intricate metal. "So, you've never searched for the answer?"

He met her eyes and looked to the waters sprawled behind her. "I think that was the answer."

She seemed to understand what he meant, bobbing her head and allowing him to take her arm again. He led her to a small outdoor café near the edge of Velaris. He sat with his back to the Sidra, offering the view to her as he had his own spectacular one to admire.

Once the tea and pastries had been brought to their table, Nesta allowed herself one more brief glance to the ocean, accompanied by a small sigh that Cassian was only aware of by the soft gust of her honeyed breath flowing his way. Her eyes locked on his as if she were about to interrogate him for vital information.

"So," she said with little preamble. "What is your most terrifying nightmare?"

A second earlier he would've surely showered her in a comically obnoxious spit take, but when he coughed it disturbed the liquid to go through the wrong pipe. It caused his nose and throat to burn. He suffered through the sensation for a short moment. "What kind of question is that?"

"A telling one. Our subconscious fears do a better job of explaining who we are than our likes or fondest memories. It's more important to learn the broken and twisted parts of people first instead of the practiced façade they want you to see. The dark parts are real."

"And more interesting to be sure." The humored reply sounded. "But if you learn all the dark and the bad before you actually know and care about someone, what's to keep you from leaving?"

"The curiosity." The provocative raise of her brow garnered his attention more than the verbal reply.

"So, today is going to be the nitty gritty?"

"Essentially."

"I was hoping for something more upbeat or fun."

"Who says this can't be fun?"

Cassian laughed and shook his head. "I worry about you, Nes. I really do."

Her steely eyes narrowed at the nickname. "This is so we get to know one another. I don't need the rehearsed summary of your life. You were raised a low-born bas-" she corrected herself. "Illegitimate and poor orphan. I have also seen poverty and now the deaths of both my parents. Let's not waste time spinning happy falsehoods of our beginnings; they don't define us. I'm asking about who you truly are: demons and all." She paused. "Tell me about your nightmares and fears."

"This better not be you just accumulating firepower." He smirked as she waited in silence.

Nesta was formidable; he had to give her that, baffling too, but more importantly she was also right, in her own twisted way. "I guess it's an amalgamation of several things." Her brow raised as Cassian continued. "You know, people I failed, people I hurt."

She watched him expectantly, curious who would be on such lists. "Feel free to elaborate."

He sighed, hating the exposing nature of the conversation, but determined to prove how much this meant to him, how much she meant to him. "Sometimes it's my mother saying I was too late to save her." He breathed and tried to sound less severe. "Telling me I should've looked for her sooner."

Her silence told him that she truly was well-acquainted with his backstory. He had to pull the focus from his mother. "A lot of times its faces of the countless hundreds who've died at my hands."

Nesta couldn't help but yield to her need to defend him. "That was necessary. Battle is inevitable. It's not as if you committed war crimes." She knew enough of his soul to be certain of that statement.

He snorted at her. "War is a crime, necessary or not." The Illyrian War General took a sip of his tea and grimaced in a way that let Nesta know the conversation was making him crave something stronger. She watched every intricate twitch and loaded breath, marveling at the rare, but very present wisdom shining through his eyes. "War, real war is usually nothing more than simple men, hopeful and misguided fools representing pawns in their sovereign's quest for more; more wealth, more land, more power. Most of those 'soldiers' are manipulated to believe that they are fighting for what's right, others are forced and some," he smiled darkly. "Know no other way of life and hold to the commands they're given. And they are cut down like weeds, most likely in vain and never mourned by those whose bidding they died in service of." He took another sip. "So sometimes, I see their faces and regret that their loss meant nothing in the grand scheme besides being one more casualty in a war band of thousands. I'm lucky; every time I fought in a war, it was for a purpose I was willing to die for. That is a luxury most are not afforded. I've killed so many who didn't even know why they were fighting."

She had a deep, all-encompassing need to defend the fight he had spent his life facing. Her voice rang strong, trying to cut through his pensively painful reverie. "That is what a soldier does; they fight the hard fight for the greater good and don't look back or regret what had to be done in the process."

Cassian smiled back patronizingly. "Soldiers fight and give their lives to preserve the world they care about and the people that live in it. They face and commit the necessary evil demanded of them. They taint their own souls for what they believe is right. A soldier will do what war calls for surely, but there are two kinds of warriors; the good and the bad. The difference between them is that the good will wear the death they brought as a necessary, but regrettable loss of life. While the bad will not even care enough to look back. That is the difference between a man and a monster; one respects life and the other no longer sees its value."

She watched him, awed into silence for the first time in her life. "War is a waking nightmare, the worst one you can possibly experience…at least that's what I used to believe, until…" His eyes grew distant as if a painful memory took hostage of him, paralyzing his words.

"Until what?" She asked, not meaning to speak and not caring to school her enthralled expression.

He met her gaze. "Until the day you hear your mate screaming and thrashing as she is dragged to her own personal doom. Hearing and feeling each and every second in crystal clarity and knowing that you can't move, you can't get to her. You can't save her." There was a tense breath as his eyes became pained. Nesta tried to ignore the crushing ache in her chest as the words tumbled from his mouth like an ode of regret. "Knowing that you failed her. That is a hellish nightmare than you can't forget."

She was taken aback by the stark honesty and felt a need to look anywhere but his eyes. She was trapped in that devastating and revealing fragment of time. Cassian took a gulp of his tea, pretending to be content in the silence while internally exposed every second she didn't speak.

Unsure what to say, Nesta finally chose to deflect the weight of the moment. Her volume shocked Cassian out of his trance more than her words did. "Isn't this the part where you say something absurd or embarrassing, usually a combination of the two?"

He had to swallow down the majority of a laugh of surprise at the blunt way she pointed out their awkwardness. "You are the one who wanted honesty. You asked the question."

"I expected it to have a different answer." She admitted.

"Well, how about you?"

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "You don't expect me to follow that?" The thought was insulting. Her worst nightmare could never compare to the very real horrors he had been haunted by.

"Why not?" The weight in his voice was now replaced with his usual humor. "After you subjected me to the same question." He couldn't stop himself from teasing a bashful and mortified Nesta, knowing it was an opportunity he probably wouldn't get for another 300 years, at least.

She heaved a heavy, but quiet sigh. "Sometimes I relive my father's death." She looked down at her tea. "It happens much slower and I'm hit with this disturbing clarity that it's coming and I can't stop it." She took a sip and shook her head. "That's not the worst one. I think of how different our lives would have been had Hybern not come for us. That's not all so bad." She said nonchalantly. "Except for Elain." She breathed.

"That's the real part of the nightmare." She sighed, her stoic eyes revealing just a glint of hypothetical mortification. "Elain would marry that monstrous little man."

"I seem to recall you having very similar opinions of our kind." Cassian spoke playfully combatant. "Including an unwillingness to help us in our plight."

"That was different." Nesta spoke as if it was the truest statement, without room for interpretation. "My prejudice was birthed from a place of fear and ignorance of your kind. I was raised seeing the disdain that greeted Children of the Blessed who would walk through our town. Guilt by association was treated just as seriously.

"Feyre's appearance was more than troublesome because she wasn't simply High Fae; she was human-born, which made her guiltier. She wasn't just dangerous, she was unnatural." She looked away. "My sister had left home in love, hopeful, human. I urged her to go. That human Feyre died broken and filthy in a dank dungeon with a crowd of people watching her." She blinked and the vulnerability Cassian had just identified, quickly vanished. "Then some Fae imitation of her stood on my doorstep asking for help."

"All the more reason you should've felt inclined to assist her." Cassian bit back.

"And what? Give to one sister at the detriment of the other? We had already seen what kind of influence my assistance had on Feyre. We had too much to lose. I wanted to keep Elain safe." She met his gaze. "I went against my better judgment and it was her who suffered the most."

"With the coldness that you showed Feyre, how can you claim to be any different than Grayson?" Cassian expected furious flames to fill her eyes, but was instead baffled by the gentle sincerity they bore.

"Because I didn't stop loving her." He froze, having never heard her convey such feelings for Feyre before.

Nesta had always loved her youngest sister, even when it was hard. When they were young, Feyre had been different, more open and that had made the eldest Archeron wary of her. When they had grown, Feyre had become savior to her family, also becoming a reminder to Nesta of her own failure, infuriating her. Feyre had never once needed Nesta, not like Elain had. She shook her head and looked back to Cassian. "Grayson claimed to love Elain; he should've known that nothing could change the goodness of her soul. He should've been able to see her as she was, eternally gentle and kind. That didn't change, couldn't change. My prejudice was rooted in survival; his was rooted in superiority, hatred and power." She slowed her seething and allowed herself a deep breath. "He proved that when he looked beyond her soul, only to sneer at her flesh. I didn't do that. I saw Feyre wholly, even if I didn't want to help her. He should've been able to do the same."

Cassian smirked. "It's different. She was your sister, that bond, that love is stronger."

"It shouldn't be!" She stated decisively with no room for debate. Her voice calmed. "Yes, it's a different love, but it shouldn't be a weaker one. It shouldn't be shallow or conditional. Her heart was still intact and that is what he was supposed to love. If his devotion was more than just a passing fancy, a vague inclination of affection, it should've been enough. If any of it was real, it would've been."

"I understand." He smiled softly and Nesta allowed herself a silent breath. "You're a closet romantic, Nesta." He announced, playfully delighted. The resounding hiss caused him to laugh. "You are. How sweet!"

"Do **not** patronize me!" She growled. "I am not."

"Oh, this should be useful information for me."

"The more you continue the less useful and irrelevant it becomes." Cassian silently lifted his hands in mock surrender and she continued. "I don't delude myself into thinking that is how it is, but I believe if that if you are foolish enough to love somebody and crazy enough to think you can spend your lives together, that is what it should mean to you. Anything else in unsubstantial and not worth all the effort. That is why I called off my engagement." She finished quietly.

"You were engaged?" Cassian forced breath from his lungs. He was overcome with a lethal dose of …rage? 'Not quite,' he told himself.

As the patron of the café came over and refilled her glass of tea, Nesta spoke, almost self-consciously as she watched the woman fill her glass, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Yes." Her voice was whispered as she waited for her new audience surplus of one to leave.

He understood then what he felt. It wasn't anger that he experienced, but a brief, concentrated bout of hopelessness; an emotion, that if he was being honest, he had never felt in his arrogantly, overly decisive existence. It was hopeless to think and feel, to know that he had almost missed out on getting to know his mate, to know Nesta. He had a whole new appreciation for everything Lucien had gone through with Elain. That man was a saint for bearing that pain so well, especially with the knowledge that Elain had still been very much engaged and in love when he had come into her life.

Cassian had gotten off lucky and yet the knowledge still greatly bothered him. "I was engaged." Nesta continued once they were alone again. "After Feyre had left the first time and everything had changed, I just looked at Tomas and it felt wrong."

"You no longer loved him?" He tried to sound unaffected.

"I don't think I ever loved him, not really. He was just a means to an end." She shrugged nonchalantly, but Cassian could see the look in her eyes that revealed she was bothered by her own words. "The truth is that is how it is done; marry a seemingly nice, reliable boy so you can escape."

"That hardly seems like a romantic notion." He offered.

"Why would they want it to be? So women hold out for something lovely and good, forcing young husbands to treat them as if they were more than baby-making property?" She scoffed.

Although Cassian shared her disgust with the issue, he couldn't help but be taken aback by her passionate and focused anger. "I didn't know you felt so strongly."

"I didn't used to. I was determined to marry my way free. Most girls wanted to escape their family; they wanted to steal away their independence. I just wanted to escape hunger and poverty. So I read into pretty smiles and well-crafted words because I ached to believe it's what I wanted, not just what I needed." She looked at her glass, letting her index finger trace and hug the rim of it. "When the money came back, I knew that there was nothing I needed to escape from anymore." She released a small huff of sarcastic laughter.

"So it ended amicably?"

Nesta paused and the second was loaded with a context he could not comprehend. "We quarreled." She shrugged, her stoic mask reappearing. "I was thankful for it though. It reminded me that I was right to ultimately reject him; it strengthened my resolve."

Cassian attempted to mask the seething tone of his voice. "Did he hurt you?"

"I never gave him the power to."

"That's not what I meant." Again he had to reign in his fury.

She met his eyes, her own solemn as stone. "I know what you meant."

That was enough of an answer for Cassian. The thought made him sick to his stomach; at some point in his lifetime, his mate had been harassed, possibly even hurt and he had done nothing, felt nothing. He hadn't felt his hand coil into a white-knuckled fist, until Nesta's own lightly covered it. "It's fine. Don't make it a bigger issue than what it was, which was a sad boy throwing a tantrum because someone told him 'no'." Cassian looked back to her. "I wouldn't even give it a second thought." She looked a little embarrassed and removed her hand, but he remembered its soft warmth. The hand retreated, a small fragment of their inked covenant peeking just beyond the sleeve. "The worst part about it all was realizing later on that if things hadn't changed, I would've married him and left Elain. The idea of her being stuck in that hut with our unmotivated father haunts me. As good as Elain is, she's never been very resourceful." She took a sip of her tea. "I like to tell myself I wouldn't have gone through with it, leaving her alone, but the truth is I'm happy I never got the opportunity to find out."

"Even if you had married," he gritted his teeth. "You never would've abandoned her. I don't think you'd even know how."

Nesta gave him a small half-smile. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"Don't mention it." He watched her shamelessly as she broke a small cookie in half. The wind had blown free soft tendrils that now framed her face, as the sun peeked behind clouds, casting her in a ray of soft sunshine. With nature surrounding her in such a gentle glow, her beauty was ethereal and blunt, wholly undeniable. It filled him with an ache warning that the only way he could be happy was if he spent the rest of his life looking at her. He sighed, overcome with the strength and severity of the bond, how foolishly lost it made him for her. The more he thought about it, the less fair it seemed.

He'd gone from being the formidable, invincible War General to a lovesick creature who composed unspoken sonnets to describe the color of her hair and here she sat, looking back at him, completely unaffected. The worst part was that despite it all, he was thankful. The pain, the ache, the way his chest burned and his breathing grew labored when she looked at him; the agony of it all was a gift. Even if she spent the rest of eternity hating him or loving someone else, it didn't matter. Seeing and knowing her was excruciating in the best way possible, as if just being near her gave him a purpose in a long life that he never knew was missing it in the first place. So he would endure it forever, even if she never loved him in return.

Nesta sighed almost contentedly. There was a whispered peacefulness surrounding them as if sitting in the calm sunlight, away from the House of Wind and people they knew, freed them, her especially. Without prying eyes that identified her by her patented coldness, she felt as if she could be open and forthright instead of distant and defensive. Here and now, she could talk to Cassian, not battle him (although she did enjoy that too.) In this fragment of time, she believed she could talk to him until words lost meaning.

Her eyes widened ever so slightly, allowing herself to taste what she was feeling, but refusing to let herself be overwhelmed by it. "Ask me something."

It wasn't a demand, just an offered opportunity. Although Cassian rightly wanted to seize it, he tried to think of a 'telling question' like she had mentioned earlier. There was one unpleasant thing he truly wanted to know. "What really happened when your family became poor?"

Nesta noticeably soured. "You know what happened."

"Not according to your perception. I'm willing to regard it as truth with an open mind, but first I need to hear it."

"It doesn't change anything." And it wouldn't, Nesta knew that much to be true. All the truth would do was expose her self-pity and petty existence.

"Even so, I'm here for the broken and twisted, the dark and the bad."

She knew he was, the decisive affection that permeated his voice told her that. Although he knew she didn't want to be vulnerable, he wanted her to reveal every piece of herself, starting with the ugliest.

It was a mutual honesty that he was seeking. She released a gust of breath. The huff seemed an indication that she would tell him, though begrudgingly. "At risk of sounding too much like your ally," he grinned. "I want to be on your side." He pushed, nearly begging.

"Why does it matter? Everything happened the way it did. Re-visiting it won't change anything and I doubt Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court, victim of my negligence, would have it any other way." Cassian waited, his silence prodding her on to finally continue. "I too, lost my mother young, just as Feyre. I'm sure the way she paints it; I was older, more prepared. That's what I wanted her and Elain to see, but no girl is ever prepared for life without her mother, even with one as cold as mine." She took in a sharp breath, refusing to allow herself to be manipulated and succumb to emotions; the main reason she never saw fit to 'defend' herself before. His hazel eyes coaxed her on. Her voice continued, matter-of-fact and stronger than before.

"I became the stand-in mother, which was hard more often than not, but I could manage and did. I saw to it that the household was run correctly and that our food was prepared on time. I may not have made the meals myself but I supervised the housekeeping, our schedules, everything. When the wealth left us, life became too challenging too soon and my father…" her breath hitched and Cassian thought she might cry. He mentally prepared himself, but when she looked up, it wasn't pain in her eyes, only pure fury. She was livid. "My father gave up on us. I could play the maternal part to ease his troubles, but I couldn't be the only parent, the only adult, especially when in many ways, I was still a child myself. So I stopped making life easier on him. I refused to fix his mess."

She breathed steadily and shook her head. "Even knowing what I do now, I can't help but think I would still choose to wait on him to be a man, to be a father, to prove me wrong. I was content to bite off my nose to spite my face. Just feeling this undiluted anger and disappointment years later; I know that I would've gladly starved. I would've spent my final moments tending to my pride. I'm not saying I wanted to die, but I would've accepted it, if only to know that my father's failure to us, to me, would've haunted him for the rest of his life. It would've been worth it to know that his agony drove him mad." She exhaled the anger still palpable in her heavy breaths.

"No, it wouldn't have." Cassian said softly.

Nesta avoided his eyes and shook her head. "Well, we'll never know, because there came Feyre Cursebreaker to save the day and relieve our father of his one duty."

He watched her closely, incredulous. "You're still angry at her."

"No." She sat straighter, the decisive royal yet again. "I was mad that she made it easy on him by making it hard on herself." She looked away and spoke with indifference. "And I was really mad that somehow it all became my fault." He lifted his brow. "It's not as if I care now. It'd be tedious to give it another thought after how much time has passed."

And yet, he noticed she still did. "Yeah, it's a good thing you don't care." Feyre had once said that Nesta, despite her coldness, felt everything so much stronger than everyone else. By the glare he was receiving from her at the sarcastic implication that she might care, he knew Feyre was right.

After months of knowing her, he could finally see her in her entirety. It wasn't just the fight that smoldered and raged in her eyes, it was her heavy heart brimming with emotions so powerful they threatened to suffocate her. That was why she hid, because she was afraid that if she gave herself to one feeling, she'd succumb to them all.

* * *

The walk through Velaris back to the House of Wind passed by much slower. There was this new, budding harmony between the two of them. Nesta felt a comforting warmth fill her lungs as opposed to the scalding heat she had become so accustomed to bearing. Too soon for both of their desires they were back. Without a second's waste, Cassian swooped her in his arms and launched them both into the air. She held him a little tighter than necessary and he had the decency not to say anything, though he noticed.

He stood on the balcony and held her for a prolonged second before slowly setting her down. Nesta looked at the door and stepped back slightly. Cassian took her hand in both of his and kissed it. "Thank you for today." He said gently.

Her eyes flickered for a second and she held back the desire for a snarky comment. "You're welcome." She said simply with a subtle bob of her head. She walked to the double doors and spared him a final glance over her shoulder before walking in, leaving him on the balcony watching her.

He came in soon after and waited in the sitting room for less than an hour before the others arrived. The day had been uneventful for them. He feigned a similar attitude, wondering if Nesta would come back out to join them. She didn't and he wasn't sure if he was frustrated or relieved. She was determined to keep both their connection and their arrangement secret from everyone else; he knew he wouldn't be capable of such discretion with her so close by, not after the revealing and intimate day they had shared together.

He smiled and acted as normal as he could, determined to go to his own residence in Velaris, unable to sit still or find any peace in the House of Wind. Excusing himself from his group of friends, Cassian headed to the bathroom before the fly back. He opened the door with a soft and silent click.

He stepped in and froze at what he saw. Nesta's bare back was to him and she kneeled in the bathtub, pouring water over her head. She refilled the bucket as he stood in silence, noticing the way her dark golden tresses draped against her back. With the water falling loudly into the bucket, he knew her unpolished senses hadn't picked him up.

She left the water running as she poured it over her head yet again. Cassian ignored his cottonmouth as his eyes took in the dip of her waist and the generous flair of her hips.

He quickly understood, though he wasn't sure if it was thanks to the bond or not. Without another look, he hurried out of the bathroom as silently as he could. He sat in an empty chair in the sitting room, feeling sympathy for his mate. The Cauldron had affected her so fully, that he felt like an idiot for not seeing sooner. That was why her baths seemed to take so long. She couldn't submerge herself.

* * *

There were many words Nesta would've never used to describe herself and usually 'excited' was one of them, though she tried to justify that that was still the case. She wasn't necessarily 'excited', but she couldn't deny that she was anticipating her training session. She needed to know if the difference she felt was mutual. She had learned more about Cassian in their one day out than she had in all the months she'd known him. She had opened up in return, more than she had expected. Had he felt a similar shift, she wondered.

She finished braiding her long hair and walked to the training room. She pulled down her shirt, still not accustomed to how the Night Court's clothing revealed her midriff. If she was being honest with herself though, she had come to appreciate the ever-changing view of her peeking abdomen since she had started training. She had looked nice in the clothes to begin with, but now her body had become toned. Even her posture had been perfected, as she no longer relied on her back for its rigidity, but on her strengthened core for its balance.

She stood in the room and took a deep breath. It was early. She hadn't realized how much she had come to rely on their sessions. To her surprise, Cassian had been right. She had needed this. When the war had ended, she missed routine and focus. She had finally began to feel purpose again, an enjoyment and appreciation when waking up in the morning.

Nesta squared her shoulders and watched the door. She wanted to think it was just like him to be late, but the truth was, it wasn't. Cassian had a cavalier attitude about practically everything, but never his work. He was always on time and gave everything he had. Nesta had almost come to admire him for his work ethic, almost.

She noticed large wings peeking beyond the door frame, but a lingering touch of shadows revealed their owner before she even saw his face. "Miss Nesta." He bobbed his head, maintaining adequate distance in his formality.

"Azriel." She nodded respectfully. "Will you be assisting today?"

His eyes widened briefly. "Cassian didn't tell you?"

Her gut stilled. "Tell me what?"

"He left Velaris last night. He said he had something important to do."

"What?"

"He didn't say." He answered nonchalantly.

She stood straighter as if to seem angry and annoyed by his absence rather than concerned because of it. "When will he be back?"

"He didn't say." He repeated.

"Does he do this often?"

"No."

"And that's all he said on the manner?" 'Or didn't say,' she snidely thought.

"Yes, and that he needed me to train you in his stead."

Nesta was anything but pleased. She had spent the entire day with him being more pleasant than she was used to and more open than she had thought possible. It was the second time he had rewarded her attentiveness with convenient indifference. She tried not to think about that, but one thing was certain: he had neglected to give her any explanation. It threatened to make her feel self-conscious that he might be avoiding her. The timing was more than suspect.

She breathed shallowly. "Well then, I suppose we best get to it." She began her drills with very little guidance; the muscle memory of her immortal body stronger than before.

When it came to sparring, she found herself the perfectly passive pupil. It was easier for her to focus when she wasn't consistently being antagonized. It nearly made her believe that Cassian purposefully hindered their own practice, though if she was honest with herself; his mere presence was enough to antagonize her.

Azriel was quick to be sure, but his moves didn't possess the same force supporting them as Cassian's did. Where Cassian was the frontrunner, the Lord of Battle, Azriel was his opposite, the personification of stealth, the silent Shadowsinger.

Nesta found herself bored all too soon. It wasn't that Azriel was a simple opponent, far from it. She had simply become accustomed to a certain standard of conversation that was nonexistent with her new tutor.

The one highlight of the entire session came when he took a step back and gave her a praising nod. "How much training have you had with weapons?"

She glanced to the lethally gilded wall on her left. "None. Cassian said he doesn't think I'm quite ready." She soured.

"When did he say this?"

"About a week ago."

He nodded in contemplation. "Well, I would argue that you have made 'quite' the sufficient amount of progress in a week's time. Do you agree?"

She considered for a moment. She wasn't technically going against her trainer's wish seeing as he hadn't evaluated her since. Nesta stopped justifying when she remembered that he wasn't there; he had abandoned his responsibility to her, without even the courtesy of a reason. She owed him nothing. With a curt nod she replied. "I'm ready."

"You know we have to start with more boring basics, right?"

Her voice was bleak. "Unfortunately, yes."

For the first time, Azriel gave her a small smile. "Let's begin."


	7. Wondering Where & Why

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Only a few more chapters to go. This was a fun one to write. I loved putting a little distance between them... they do say it makes the heart grow fonder. I had a little too much fun with this one by creating a small bit character. I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep her in or not, but my cousin insisted she stayed. I hope the rest of you agree. I'm grateful you have stuck around this far. As always, please R &R. As most fanfic writers will say, any review even a small one, truly means the world to us. Otherwise, it is really hard to tell how the reader perceives the story. Thanks -Nikki**

* * *

 **Ch. 7: Wondering Where & Why**

It had been a month since she had begun training with Azriel. They only met 3 times a week, typically at night, mostly because of his countless other duties. Though the hours devoted to her training had significantly decreased, the quality had not in the least. The time they spent on their lessons seemed to count for much more than what she was used to with Cassian.

She now had a plethora of extra time to read and relax and wonder where the hell he had gone. Each time she indulged in the latter, she would glare at the gaudy mark on her skin that seemed to taunt her in his absence. She hoped he felt her sharp daggered scowls stab at him. In the first week she'd spent all her free time in the library; not because it would've been easier for him to find her there, she had to remind herself.

It was infuriating to her that no one seemed livid with Cassian for disappearing. The worst part of it was that if the 'inner circle' ever did talk about the absence of one of their key members, they never did it around Nesta. Part of her couldn't help but wonder if she would get some answers if they knew just how deep her claim on the subject really was.

It felt as if too much time had passed. In the span of the Illyrian General's absence, she and Elain had begun to alternate between staying at the High Lord and Lady's townhouse, as well as the House of Wind. Having given the couple some alone time, they were now impeding on their space once more. Nesta preferred the House of Wind, but was thankful for the change, if only to give Elain more immediate access to her commandeered garden. The latter was especially grateful for the mild mannered winter weather in the Night Court.

It seemed time to Nesta that she began looking for a home in Velaris for her and Elain. Living with the Fae equivalent of newlyweds was tiresome and uncomfortable. She had been able to retrieve a good deal of their wealth and though she had never planned for a life in Prythian, it still seemed the safest option for them.

She yet again decided to swap the stagnant solitude for the crisp outdoors, bringing her book with her. There was a soft, fragrant breeze to greet her upon her exit; she noticed Elain crouched in the dirt and moved to join her. Nesta sat on the stone bench that stood fairly close.

The younger of the two released a gentle breath at her approach. "What reason do I owe thanks for the company?"

Nesta sighed, holding her closed book against her chest. "You may thank all the endless free time I have."

"You don't sound especially excited for it."

She looked straight ahead. "Just restless. I think becoming immortal has made me more wary of time. The irony that this has come now, that its supply is endless, is not lost on me."

"Adopt a hobby." The gentle seer offered with little investment.

"I already have one."

"Training?" Her tone was suggestive.

"No." Nesta vehemently denied. "Reading."

"Yes, the way you are currently devouring that book seems to suggest as much."

Nesta wasn't sure what bothered her more, Elain's uncharacteristic sarcasm or the added insult that she hadn't even looked backed at her to see what she clearly already knew. "My eyes were tired." She defended lamely.

Elain turned to her and smiled sweetly. "So, how is it with the new teacher?"

Nesta looked at her with distracted eyes. "Great. Having a mature trainer means a lot more training is happening. Azriel has a very calm demeanor and is beyond competent as a teacher." Disappointment seeped into her voice.

"That's good then." Elain said standing and wiping the dirt off of her.

"Of course." Nesta replied, unconvinced. She looked up to the skies, then to the doors behind them, as her hand unintentionally patted the concealed mark.

The younger sister understood the unspoken question. "The High Lord doesn't know where he has gone or when he'll come back."

Her head snapped back to her sister. The conflict in her eyes was apparent; she could either feign ignorance by exuding indifference or she could make her stake in the topic known to get some much desired answers. She yielded to the latter, unable to ignore her curiosity. "Do you?"

Elain sat beside her on the marbled bench. "It's not a question of whether I know, but whether or not I should tell. The secrecy was purposeful and it would seem a violation to ignore the lengths taken to preserve it."

Nesta was mortified to think she had engaged in a question that revealed her affections without receiving any of the answers she had admitted them for. Her younger sister seemed able to interpret her silence.

"What little I can say is that he left for a very specific reason and knew that if he explained his destination to the High Lord, he would not have been permitted to go."

She tensed ever so slightly. "Does that mean he is somewhere dangerous?"

"For him, perhaps, though his motives imbue him with protection."

For the first time in her life, Nesta glared at Elain. It seemed she had told her just enough to cause her more worry.

Elain looked off and something in her eyes clicked. "Starfall is in less than a month." She murmured to herself.

"Meaning?" Nesta asked, unsure she had even heard her younger sister correctly.

"Nothing." She tried to shrug it off casually. A minute later, Elain continued looking at Nesta. "I need some gardening supplies. We should go to Velaris."

"What?"

"It wouldn't take very long."

Nesta was finally beginning to gather that Elain was being serious. "You're saying you want us to go walking through Velaris alone for some supplies?" She replied with a simple nod. "You could probably just ask Feyre or the High Lord. I'm sure they would have no problem sending somebody out to do it."

"I don't need everyone's constant coddling." She said much more forcefully than Nesta believed her capable.

"I wasn't saying… I don't think that."

"Good." Elain replied, almost smug. "Then you should have no objection."

"When?"

"Tonight." She said decisively. Once she noticed her older sister's hesitance, she continued as reasonably as she could manage. "We should be able to wander the streets of Velaris without any problem. It is our home now, isn't it?"

The question seemed a statement in Elain's certain tone and it took Nesta aback. She had thought it once or twice, but hearing it said aloud startled the human heart inside her chest. Elain was right, this was their home and though Nesta couldn't get herself to verbally admit it, she was okay with the reality of it. She nodded simply.

"Great." Elain clapped, noticeably pleased. "This should be fun."

Nesta didn't want to go, not in the least, but the smile Elain had given her was all the motive she needed. It would be better than sitting at home wondering why Cassian had disappeared, where he had gone and when he would be back. She was sick of hearing his name in her head.

When they set off, Nesta found herself irritated by something else entirely. Elain practically dragged her feet on the cobblestone path. At first she thought it had to be on purpose, but she remembered how little exercise Elain was getting. It was no wonder she moved so slowly, she had to be tired. It seemed unreasonable for her to be wasting time, though she most certainly was, whether or not Nesta was aware.

They weren't far into town when the younger paused and turned to face a shop that shouldn't have even been in her peripheral vision. Nesta followed her gaze and saw the most spectacular gowns she'd ever seen. She didn't even need to touch them to know that they were made of expensive fabric. She had very little use for fashion beyond that which could parade her financial status; she had no passion for it beside its worth and yet she was entranced.

"You know," Elain spoke quietly from behind her like a persuasive, soft-spoken little devil on her shoulder. "Starfall is coming soon and Feyre says that all of Velaris makes a great deal about it. Since we're here, maybe we should look at some gowns."

Nesta pulled her eyes away reluctantly. "What about your supplies?"

Elain shrugged dismissively. "We have quite a bit of time. This is the Night Court after all."

"That doesn't mean we should or can stay out until all hours-"

"Of the night?" Elain smiled. "Nesta, sundown isn't for another hour or so. It's still early." The older huffed and nodded, turning into the shop with Elain giddily following on her heels.

The store was bright and stunning and for the first time in her entire existence, she was slightly intimidated by the luxury, though she would die before ever admitting it. A soft, harp-like melody greeted them as well as the rainbowed spectacle of hundreds of gowns. Each one capable to leave an entire room speechless with its entrance. Nesta was hypnotized by bold hues on the left side of the store, while Elain admired the right side's wide variety of pastels.

A tall, striking Fae with kind emerald eyes approached the eldest Archeron. Her jet black curls were cropped at her shoulders. Dressed in usual Night Court fashion, her movements seemed to dance as the turquoise fabric clung to her tan skin.

"Welcome." She said smoothly, only looking at Nesta.

Nesta briefly inspected the woman and couldn't help but think she looked Illyrian, despite her lack of visible wings. The light glinted off her back in an unusual way that revealed a translucent shadow. She in fact, did possess wings, just like Rhysand's. It made her look more graceful, like a pixie instead of a bat.

The shopkeeper stepped closer and Nesta noticed the special attention she was receiving from her. She was used to being identified as the eldest and therefore most likely to be in possession of the coin purse.

"My name is Gaia. Do you need any assistance?"

"Well," Elain chimed in and the woman reluctantly looked away from Nesta. "We were both looking for gowns for Starfall."

She nodded. "You've come to the right place." Her eyes gratefully turned back to Nesta. "Were you looking for anything in particular?"

Elain smiled to herself, realizing that Nesta had no idea that the woman was so obviously attracted to her. "Not really." Nesta finally spoke. "We actually aren't even sure what style might be most appropriate. We've never been."

Gaia's eyes lit up. "Oh, it's amazing. You're going to love it."

"So we've been told." Nesta said with polite casualness.

"Your husband must be excited to share it with you." The gothic pixie said with a subtlety that Elain had no problem seeing through.

"Oh, no." Nesta answered, suddenly feeling flustered though she had no idea why. "Our sister has told us all about it. We're not married." She added awkwardly, feeling like she needed to answer the shopkeeper's unspoken question.

"Is that so?" Gaia stood a little taller. "It's nice to see our little neighborhood of Velaris expanding so."

Elain smirked. "Nesta, which do you think is best?" She compared two similar dresses side by side.

Nesta pointed to the lilac dress she held. Gaia spoke up. "If you would like to try anything on, we have rooms. Just that way, Nesta." She oozed at the one sister who hadn't even had a real chance to look at any of the dresses.

She nodded and looked back Elain. "How have you already had a chance to narrow it down?"

Elain shrugged. "I already had a vague idea of what I wanted."

Her steely eyes narrowed, forgetting the woman beside her. "Is that why we really came to town?"

Guiltily, she replied. "Not completely."

Nesta shook her head, annoyed that she felt bad when Elain was manipulating her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I figured if I said anything, Feyre might try to invite Mor to come with us. I thought it better we come to town on our own. You know, prove we don't need any protection."

Nesta's irritation dissolved at the mention of Mor. She didn't entirely loathe the blonde, but any missed opportunity to bond with Cassian's ….whatever she was, was beyond fortunate. She didn't want to see the only person that made her feel self-conscious about her relationship with Cassian … whatever that was, especially since he had vanished on her. She could only overanalyze so much before imploding. "I don't appreciate the dishonesty."

Elain nodded, pretending to be solemn while knowing full well that Nesta had already forgiven her. Nesta sighed. "Since we're here…"

"Great, because I already have an idea for what you should get." Elain said excitedly. She looked at Gaia, completely ignoring the balking expression of her older sister. "Something dark red with lace." She continued as if she realized she had forgotten something. "Oh and preferably with a high neck." Nesta looked back, shocked that Elain had a more evolved idea of what she would wear than she did.

Gaia gave Nesta another heated once over. "Well, let's have a look."

Standing outside Nesta's door, Gaia was primed to give immediate assistance. Around the 5th gown, the eldest Archeron stopped paying attention to what she tried on. She slipped out of the little room.

Her attendant gave the violet gown an appreciative glance and smirked. "I thought you hadn't been in the Night Court very long?"

Nesta stood straighter, taken aback by the inquiry. "I haven't, not really."

She grinned playfully. "Hmm. Seems you've been here just long enough."

"I beg your pardon?"

Gaia pointed to Nesta's bare yet ink-adorned wrist.

Her jaw dropped. "This gown is a definite No." She deflected, disappearing back into the room. She exited a few moments later in a long-sleeved dress, surprised by her own carelessness.

Elain asked what had taken so long.

"The last one didn't fit." Nesta bluntly countered.

"Ideally." Gaia chimed in addition. Nesta turned to glare at the friendly stranger who looked down with a mischievous smirk and continued lowly. "So it would seem."

* * *

Elain and Nesta returned hours later, both exhausted with gowns in hand. The younger of the two had quickly settled on the first dress she'd tried on. Nesta had not been so lucky. Elain was critical of every dress she tried.

Elain finally declared the final dress the one, but at that point Nesta had to actively widen her eyes so she wouldn't fall asleep standing up. When they left the shop Nesta sighed in gracious relief as she walked in the direction of the townhouse. Elain however had other plans, corralling her in the opposite direction for their initial reason of coming to town. Thankfully Elain didn't waste time and soon they were finally on their way home. Nesta wanted nothing more than a bath, but deemed it not worth the effort when she was so thoroughly drained.

She entered the bathroom to find Feyre staring peculiarly at the large porcelain tub. She turned quickly. "Oh, good." She spoke distractedly. "Nesta, I was waiting for you."

"Why?" She asked, somehow both stoic and disturbed. Feyre smirked though it didn't reach her eyes as she took a step back revealing the altered bath. "What is that?" Nesta asked, looking at a long hose-like attachment.

"An alteration." Feyre said, almost irritable. "I remembered how difficult bathing has been for you since Hybern… and I sought a solution."

Feyre explained how to use the mechanism, all the while watching Nesta very carefully. She expressed deeper thanks than what Feyre was used to hearing, but her face was still hard to read. The elder of the two reached out to feel the soft trickling water tap onto her hand, when Feyre saw it for a brief second. A charcoal wisp sneaking out from the edge of her dress. "What is that?" The High Lady asked softly.

Nesta's demeanor immediately changed as her head whipped around, lowering her hand from Feyre's view. "It's nothing." She answered strongly at first, her expression growing almost melancholy. "Nothing at all."

She attempted to stealthily take a peek into her oldest sister's mind.

Nesta immediately felt the intrusion and turned to glare at her. "Don't do that." She said sternly through gritted teeth.

Feyre sighed, exasperated. "I'm just trying to see if you really like it."

She looked at her with disbelief, uneasy that her sister might've been looking for the answer to her other question. "I already said thank you."

"No, I – ugh." She huffed, remembering the look her mate gave her when he guessed she might say something. It was because of Cassian's vehement denial to accept any credit that Rhys asked her to do as their friend had asked.

It was obvious that the Illyrian War General had passionate (often vicious) feelings for Nesta, so it made no sense.

 _Cassian stood back and explained how the 'standing bath' worked to both Rhys and Feyre. Rhys sent an innuendo down the bond about all the fun new ways they could get dirty while trying to get clean. Feyre could practically feel her mate's desire to nudge her just so that she could acknowledge his tantalizing and brazen wink. All that was good, fine and fun of course, but she gathered that Cassian had a deeper purpose behind this remodel. "So, Nesta told you?" She had asked simply._

 _"Not quite." Cassian answered slightly confused. "Wait, she told you?" He had hoped to pawn off the idea as an improvement, but it seemed Feyre had already learned of Nesta's predicament._

 _Feyre nodded. "We had a vague discussion about it. I had promised we'd install something, but I'd completely forgotten in all the chaos." She could feel Rhys mentally inquiring what they were talking about. It was exceedingly rare that the telepathic High Lord was ever kept out of the loop. She promised to explain later._

 _Cassian's eyes brightened briefly. "Perfect. Then just tell her you finally got around to it."_

 _Feyre nearly recoiled. "But you went to so much trouble. You should be the one taking the credit."_

 _"It's nothing, really." He answered glibly. The reality was that he had hoped to give Rhys and Feyre the credit, but that was because he didn't want to admit the truth about how he came to find out about Nesta's issue with bathing. It was very intimate and he didn't want her to think that he had spied on her in some lewd manner. It had been nothing like that, but he couldn't risk her seeing it that way. It didn't matter how she received the solution or who from, just that she got it._

 _"But-" Feyre tried to argue._

 _"Really, Feyre." Cassian insisted. "I'd prefer if you just took the credit. Please don't tell Nesta I was involved."_

 _Feyre opened her mouth to dispute, but Rhys spoke. "We understand. We won't say anything."_

 _After Cassian had left, Feyre glared at her mate. "Why would you make that promise?"_

 _"Feyre," he answered simply. "Cassian is our friend and he doesn't want her to know. It should be simple."_

 _"Simple for you maybe. I made no promise."_

 _He shook his head. "I don't get it either, but I'm guessing he has his reasons."_

 _She narrowed. "You've seen the way he's been acting these past few months. It's like he's trying to woo her. Why wouldn't he want her to know, after all the effort he went to just to do this for her? I'm telling you it makes no sense."_

 _Rhys smiled. "He said he wants to install one in the House of Wind as well." He looked away. "I'll let you explain the mechanics of it to her."_

Feyre knew why he'd done that. Rhys was letting her come to her own decision. He made a promise and he would follow it; so he'd wiped his hands clean of it. 'Promise be damned,' she thought. "It wasn't me."

"What?" Nesta turned to face her youngest sister.

'Forgive me Cassian.' "It was Cassian. He learned the design and installed it himself."

"So, he's back?" She quickly deduced.

Feyre was taken aback by the sudden investment in her eyes. "Um, no. He left again."

She sighed and Feyre found herself even more surprised to see what she believed to be … was it, disappointment? Nesta's eyes widened as if she finally realized what Feyre had said. "Wait. He did this?" She looked back at the showering apparatus with a newfound appreciation as if she had just discovered what it was.

Feyre was floored by the unabashed gratitude in her sister's recently disinterested eyes. "Yes."

"Why isn't he here? Why did you try to take credit?" She turned on Feyre a little sharply.

She lifted her hands in surrender. "He said he had something else to do. He told me to."

"What could be so important that he had to disappear without saying anything?" She murmured frustrated to herself.

"He didn't have a chance to." She offered though it was clear Nesta wasn't really talking to her. "You were out in Velaris with Elain."

It angered Nesta even more. Of course the first time Cassian returned after disappearing for a month would be the first time Elain wanted to finally venture outside. It seemed absolutely unlucky and perfectly typical.

* * *

Nesta was bothered to think that Cassian would leave without saying anything to her. It seemed that other than Feyre and Rhys no one even knew that he had come back for less than a day, so she didn't feel entirely left out, though she still reasoned that she was more deserving of acknowledgement during his brief return than they were. 'Who were his High Lord and Lady compared to his mate?' She often thought sourly.

There was nothing to do but continue with her training. That was no chore, seeing as she looked forward to those 3 days each week. She was instilled with a small amount of hope that if Cassian had returned, even if only for a few hours, that he would be officially back in no time at all.

She was wrong, or at least it felt that way. Another two weeks had passed.

One night, when she was training with Azriel, she heard it. Sweat beaded on her temple as she practiced with the Shadowsinger. She could slowly feel him ease into battling her with his strength less subdued. The harder he fought back, the deeper she considered the compliment.

They were at each other quite forcefully, when Nesta felt the air shift.

"Az," she heard mumbled quietly. "Mind if I cut in?" The long-awaited voice called out.

Nesta spun fast and her kick was thwarted by a muscular and tan hand that grabbed her ankle. "Fancy." He lifted his brows in lieu of a greeting. "I'm here to relieve you." He spoke to Azriel, though his eyes never left Nesta's.

The Shadowsinger practically evaporated at the dismissal. Cassian released her ankle. Nesta tried to calm down her excitement to see him again and was thankful that the training would suffice as the explanation for the heavy beat of her heart. She wanted desperately to be livid with him. He had gone without so much as a word, only to return and then leave again just as quickly. She knew she had every right to be angry, but she was so relieved to see him back that any remaining irritation she had dispersed at the simple thought of what he had done for her.

She remembered that he didn't even know that she knew the truth. Feyre had said she was meant to keep it secret and her pitiful failure was Nesta's gain, both in the knowledge of his generosity and of her youngest sister's inability to be a trustworthy confidant in the future.

They were still staring at each other and it occurred to her that she hadn't spoken a syllable since his entrance. She stood straighter. "Are you sure you should've relieved Azriel? I just assumed he was my new teacher, since my old one vanished without a trace."

"I had business to attend to." His smile was snarky and sharp, but his eyes were bright and soft.

"What kind?" She asked, attempting to sound as bored as she could.

"Official." He stated decisively.

"The lacking alibi provided by your High Lord would suggest otherwise."

"I never said it was Night Court official." She inclined her brow at the knowledge she had backed him into a corner. "It was personal."

"Personal official?" She glared. "Which one?"

"Confidential." He tried.

"I can't decipher if you are backpedaling or piling on." She huffed. Realizing he wouldn't confess the truth to her, she settled for upsetting him. "Azriel and I have begun weapons training." She could hear the taunt in her voice, but saw no need to apologize for it.

"Against my expressed instructions?" He stepped closer.

"More like," she shrugged. "In line with my equally capable tutor's advice."

"How much have you learned?" He asked, his eyes alight with the fighting spirit awakened by her antagonistic tone.

"Quite a bit." She tilted her head. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"That desperate to get hot and sweaty with me?" He oozed.

"I have no problem getting hot or sweaty in your absence." She stooped.

"Save for the inspiration I leave you with." He was clearly proud of his playful retort to their competitive one-liners, as evident by his huff of a laugh.

"I've said it before and don't doubt I'll say it again, but you really do flatter yourself."

"My performance is worth the flattery." Arrogance poured from his throat. "Would _you_ like a demonstration?" He wandered a step closer.

Her heart beat a little heavier at the cloistered heat in the air between them. She cleared the syrupy seduction from her throat. "What's your weapon of choice?" She asked blandly, her eyes scanning the adorned wall behind him, if only to provide her with a refuge from his intoxicating stare.

He smirked, sensing her nervousness. "I hardly think it would be appropriate of me to parade it so."

She rolled her eyes, unable to play anymore before the blush on her flushed face grew too obvious. "Oh, just grab a sword and fight me."

He openly laughed and it made her feel as if she had lost. "Happy to oblige." He grabbed his sheathed sword. "Just be prepared to lose."

She smiled. "Unlike you, I'm not in the business of self-flattery. I'm in it for the practice." She pulled a sword down from the wall, also leaving its sheath on.

"Where's that fighting spirit?" He antagonized.

"Someone once told me that anger distracted me." She smirked. "I would hate to add to your already unfair advantage."

"Spoken like a true pragmatist," he nodded. "A truly conquered pragmatist."

There was something about the way the word 'conquered' slid off his tongue that made her taste its double meaning. She ignored the soft goosebumps that itched at the back of her neck. "Begin."

He watched her in a way that forced her to feel self-conscious. She couldn't even be confident in her posture with the look he was giving her. It made her thankful that she had started weapons practice with Azriel instead of her cocky potential mate. Quickly she realized it was a tactic to throw her off and though it worked, she stood a little straighter and waited for him to approach first.

As if reading her mind, he did. He was fast, but she was able to use his ignorance of her progress to her advantage. At the last second of his charge, she evaded and swung at his passing body. Her covered sword thudded against his admirable ass.

"I believe that would be a point for me." She said in the most arrogant voice she could manage, well aware that her advantage had run its course, now that he realized just how much she had learned in his absence and how quick she could move. The match would go to him, but she definitely felt as though she had won, simply from the dumbfounded look he gave her in response.

The clacking sound the wood sheaths made was like a symphony of percussion set to their skillful dance across the floor. He moved faster for her now and though she did her best to elude him, she was tiring and felt no hope for victory. She patted her ego with the reminder that she had been practicing with Azriel nearly two hours before Cassian had showed.

With a quickness she couldn't see and a force she couldn't match, his weapon knocked her own from her hands. She hadn't realized she was nearly up against the wall, until his sword prodded her to bump against it.

She was flushed and breathing heavy, but aware enough to notice the tantalizing way his eyes raked over her. His mind clearly wasn't on the win and she struck, before he could verbally claim his triumph. She swung her forearm, knocking the sword from his hands. Dropping to the floor quickly, she spun her leg effectively kicking his body to the ground.

Determined to secure the win she could already savor on her taste buds, she threw her body on top of his. Her knees pinned his lowered arms. As she sat on his chest, her forearm trapped itself beneath his chin, settling on top of his throat angled to block the passage of air. "Well, well. Even after I prepared myself to lose, I still came out on top. Literally." She mocked.

The shock had left his eyes and he took in her lithe body sitting on him. "Say what you will, but I still consider this a win for me." He teased.

Just as she scoffed, he flipped them over in one quick movement, pinning her arms to the ground and intimidating her much smaller body with the trap of his own. Her arrogance vanished. "A draw then?" She offered.

He looked her up and down, before pushing himself off of her. He extended his hand. "Deal." They shook.

His eyes became soft for a moment. "Do you have any free time?"

She tried to read his demeanor. "Yes, training with Azriel is the end of my night."

"There's something I wanted to show you."

She nodded and followed.

Night seemed to bleed into the sky as he took her to the balcony at the House of Wind. "We're going to have to go for a short flight." There was a question in his voice. She answered it with a simple nod.

They flew all the way over Velaris, finally landing on the other side of the Court of Dreams at a decent sized home. They landed on the balcony. "Is this where you have disappeared to?"

Cassian smiled. "No, this is just my place. I came here for a little bit, though this isn't where I was the whole time."

"Where were you then?" She turned to look at him.

He entered through the door, shaking his head softly, letting her know he had no desire to tell her. She scowled at his back and followed. The home was modestly furnished and looked as if it was nearly abandoned. She remembered him saying that he considered the House of Wind to be his home; it made sense he never came to his own separate residence. She figured it must have been more of a standby home.

He chatted nervously, suddenly realizing that Nesta was walking in his own private home. "I hope you don't mind Az as a trainer."

"No, he's better than you." She teased, entirely straight-faced.

"Good to know." He huffed. "He's going to continue covering for me for the next week."

"I thought you were back?"

"Not really, not yet." He shrugged. "I'm currently mid-project."

"Why return then?"

"Sorry, I've burdened you with my presence." He acted dramatically offended. She shook her head, refusing to smirk. He cleared his throat. "There was something very important I couldn't wait to check on."

She stood straighter. "And what exactly might that be?"

He stopped in front of a door. His hazel eyes entranced hers, warming her chest. "Az." He said finally and she wanted to hit him for taunting her.

"Oh, really?"

He smirked. "Of course. I've been so worried about him since I asked him to take over training you. I wasn't sure he would make it this far unharmed."

"As opposed to?"

"Broken spirit, vanishing will to live… you know, just par for the course." He held the door open and she pushed passed him.

They entered what was clearly his room. It was neat with a large, perfectly made bed of dark blankets and black satin sheets. There was a shelf in the corner of the room. He picked up a book, holding it gingerly for a moment before reaching out.

Cassian gently placed the book in her hands. The reassuring warmth he radiated reminded her of home, something she had never believed in until that moment and she knew that she had missed him far too much, despite how shortly he'd been gone. At that minute she didn't care about some book even if the gesture was truly sweet. Her mind changed when he spoke. "It's my favorite." She looked down and read the title. It was an anthology of Fae folktales and legends. She had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't sully the moment by making some jab at him about having both the simple intellect and reading comprehension of a child. Her considerate silence was rewarded with his further explanation. "It was the first book I ever read."

A smile threatened to break out onto her face. She relieved herself of the ache to do so by allowing herself the smallest of smirks, that barely tipped up the corners of her mouth. He was more sentimental than she had guessed. Nesta gently inspected the book; it was beautiful. The cover was a deep maroon color, rich and decadent in its contrast with the soft gilded lining. The title was engraved in the same golden hue. The fabric of the book eluded her; it was soft, cool and undoubtedly old. She let her fingers glide along the etched title. It was as if pressed velvet gold was trapped in the cutouts. "Thank you." She uttered unaware that she had even spoken.

He murmured something in reply, but she was too enrapt in discovering the volume of his childhood to listen. She opened the cover and found a beautifully signed inscription.

 _To my favorite and only pupil, Cassian:_

 _I know how much you enjoyed learning with this book, so I feel that it should rightfully go to you. Don't tell Rhysand; otherwise he'll decide he wants it. I'm proud of how hard you've worked._

She finished reading and felt a heat grow in her chest until it was almost too painful to bear. "I'm sorry it's just some old book." He finally said, uncomfortable in the silence.

"No, don't-" she looked up abruptly, suddenly bashful. "Be. I can't imagine how much this means to you."

Cassian smiled, thankful she understood. "So, did you miss me?" He winked playfully to diffuse the quiet tension between them. The action was so Cassian that it flooded her gut with an unstoppable affection.

For a brief second she was envious of how open he could be, how unconcerned he was with the consequences of wearing his heart on his sleeve. Words failed her; she had always preferred actions. Where words were vulnerable and almost completely absolute, she could hide behind deeds, keeping the true depth of her feelings secret and safe. She thought about all he had done to show her how much he cared about her, speaking in her language of actions.

She had missed him terribly and for once, she didn't mind that emotive words were her weakness, because they were wholly inadequate. On the surface only, she wore a face of complete calm as she leaned in and kissed him deeply. He was clearly caught off guard, but had no problem reciprocating. His body moved on its own accord as his mind stuttered; only comprehending her before him. Nesta had kissed him, for the first time she had initiated it.

Cassian grabbed her waist and before he could pull her closer, she voluntarily pressed her body to his. She briefly pulled her swollen lips away, no further than an inch. She took in a raspy, quivering breath that hummed and buzzed in the electric air between them. He felt the current of it run through every vein in his body. He tried to quickly clear his head of the alarm that just kept screaming 'Nesta' over and over again.

He took advantage of the brief and dizzying distance between them, entirely unaware of her resolve. "A simple 'yes' would've sufficed." His voice was a husky whisper as he still couldn't persuade the air to fill his lungs. "Though I more than appreciate the enthusiastic welcome, don't you think that maybe we should sto-"

"Do not-" she demanded her voice still buzzing as a whisper as she let her soft, searching lips graze against his. "Stop kissing me." She continued, her eyes darkened by their purpose.

The look in her eyes set his own aflame. Cassian wanted to re-awaken some rationality, but found it nearly impossible, especially once one hand found his face gently bringing him closer to hers. Her other hand barely raked across his fighting leathers and he couldn't help but think that she must've really missed him. He wanted to be the voice of reason, but all it took was one word from her to unwind and snap his restraint, one word he never thought he'd hear her say without it being drenched in sarcasm. "Please." She continued, though entirely unnecessarily. "Just kiss me."

He needed no other invite.


	8. Revealing Imperfect & Endless

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Here comes the lemon... This chapter was really important for me to write; not just for the smutty fun, but because I couldn't write a story between these two without delving into an issue that I really think should be addressed in canon. I think it deserves mention and genuine (if not awkward) vulnerability. Only two more chapters to go after this one. 9 & 10 will be posted on Monday to finish this story off. As always, please R&R. It helps me grow as a writer. Thanks - Nikki  
**

* * *

 **Ch. 8: Revealing Imperfect & Endless**

Cassian beheld her in that instant and his first thought was his envy for Feyre's artistic ability. He wished that he could paint this moment, Nesta's face. In this slivered fraction of time her soft golden hair was strewn about his dark pillows and sheets, small tendrils glued to her face with perspiration. She writhed beneath, a feral wanton goddess, his devastating mate. She chewed and sucked on her lip trying to restrain her own gasps, but soon even cries were escaping as her face contorted in pleasurable agony. Her eyes met his and burned him with their cobalt flames. He wished he could paint this; not because he wanted anyone to see it, he growled at the thought, no he wanted to capture the perfection of this moment, of his Nesta. This was art, even to his untrained eye. He was blessed beyond articulation.

He could feel her nails biting into his back, unaware and unconcerned of her own strength. They could have been leaving blood in their wake, but he would've thanked her for it. He understood that she enjoyed the rough feel of him. He smiled at the realization that this between them was a battle amongst allies, unleashing everything they possessed. Their touches prisons of pleasure, their kisses sparring matches for control, their sex a seemingly endless war of perfectly matched opponents dealing out tiny deaths to one another until the perception of time melted away. Strength and passion matched; he was left famished by her existence, yearning for everything she had to offer, physically, mentally, eternally. The realization danced in his mind along the fine line of impossible and certain. He wanted every piece of this woman, his fierce Queen, for as long as eternity could stretch. He wouldn't be surprised if her magic was weakened or temporarily depleted afterwards.

Cassian gripped her thigh, his blunt nail beds taunting her flesh enough to address an ache, but leaving her craving more. He felt her thoughts passing through him; she wanted him everywhere and he was more than happy to oblige.

Nesta surprised him by unhinging her nails. She let one free hand roam, eager to search out and caress his face as she kissed him savagely. The other hand covered his own resting on top of her thigh. He interlaced their fingers.

Cassian hadn't felt her hand leave his face, he didn't even know it was unaccounted for until those familiar fingers grazed the base of his wings. A groan erupted from him. He hadn't realized his wings had unfurled as they now cocooned around them both. It was nerve-wracking to have his wings so vulnerable, but the second she spread her fingers and lifted them from the base slowly, he relaxed.

Nesta marveled at the beatific beast that buried himself inside her. He was indescribable. Her hand moved unrushed to explore his wings as their bodies continued to cling and clash, drunk on the feel of one another. He knew from the intricate grazes of her fingers that she knew exactly how he wanted to be touched. He had suspected as much before, but was surprised by how much she understood.

The soft caress grew sharp as her nails skimmed across the spines of his wings. It was all causing him to lose focus, even his sense of rhythm. He had never experienced what it was like to get lost in pleasure, but any sense of sanity or rationality was being dragged from his mind. If it was possible to pass out from ecstasy, Cassian thought he surely would.

The Illyrian General could feel his mate teetering on the edge, but wasn't sure he could last that long. He quickly moved his free hand, letting his thumb reach in between her legs to torture the collection of nerves nestled there. With skillful speed he massaged her to release, feeling the relief of it burst in her blood. She bit down as her walls quivered like a vise grip around the length of him. After that, there was no hope for his stamina as his own climax ripped through him. A lingering thought stained his consciousness, that he would be content to spend the rest of eternity pressed inside her, gasping for breath. Nesta's flustered hyperventilation was a symphony to his soul.

She wiped a strand of hair from his face. Her eyes were filled with an emotion that even the bond couldn't translate for him. Reaching out, he grabbed her marked hand with his own and placed it over his drumming heart. He kissed her chastely and murmured against her mouth. "Is it too soon to say that I love you?"

Her eyes widened briefly, but she shook her head. "No." The quiet rasp of her voice juxtaposed interestingly with the earlier cries she had uttered. It was the most timid sound Cassian had ever heard come from her.

"Well, I do." He sighed, his heart thrashing recklessly against his chest.

"Mmm hmm." She mumbled and kissed his throat. It took him a second to realize that she wasn't going to say anything else. He suddenly felt embarrassed, chastising himself for not waiting to say it. He wasn't sure what to say next until he felt her hand caressing his wingspan. The touch was different, more precise as only her index finger pressed the sensitive skin.

He stilled as he realized what she was doing. Slowly and methodically her finger purposefully traced out a message. He kissed her and laughed against her lips as she finished etching her intricate sentence: _'I love you too, idiot.'_

"Aww." He teased, trying to hide his overwhelming relief. "When did you become such a softy, Nes?"

Cassian leaned in to peck her lips. She bit his bottom lip harder than what even he could consider pleasurable. "Ow."

She pulled back, self-satisfied and smug. "Ass." She said before smiling.

"I almost feel bad." He offered.

"Why?" Nesta watched him carefully.

"I'm supposed to have been courting you this whole time and I feel like I haven't done the best job of it." He tried to say it with a shrug.

Nesta shook her head humoredly. He had absolutely no idea that he had been courting her. The day out in Velaris with her flower invite, the contraption in the bathroom, his favorite book. He had done all those things in an effort to get closer to her or to make her happy; filling out some requirements to be with her had never even popped into his head. "That's what you've been doing." She said with an impatient humor.

"What?" He looked at her in complete puzzlement.

"What else would you say all this has been? The day in Velaris, this beautiful book. What about the standing bath?"

"I just wanted bathing to be easier for you." He froze, realizing that she knew. "Wait."

She kissed his lips. "Never trust Feyre to keep a secret. You should know that by now."

* * *

"Where did you go?" She asked, running her fingers through his hair as he lay on her torso.

"The Summer Court." He confessed, closing his eyes at the touch so comforting he feared he might purr.

The caress stopped as her hand froze in his thick ebony locks. "I thought you couldn't go back. Feyre said-"

"I know." He smirked against her navel. "But, you see, in my vocabulary, words like 'eternally' and 'banished' are up for negotiation." Her fingers wove around his roots and sharply yanked them upward, causing him to meet her eyes. "Hey, I never said I was okay with hair pulling."

Her steely orbs narrowed at him. "What were you thinking? You could've been killed."

He snorted as his gaze filled with arrogance. "Well, they could've tried." He smugly replied.

"And could've succeeded with that kind of arrogance as their ally." She fumed, trying not to imagine if she would've felt the tether between them snap. "What could've possessed you to go there?"

"I went to make peace and ask for a favor."

"Well, don't you work fast, offering friendship at a price?"

"They've always had my friendship. It's just that the feeling wasn't exactly mutual."

"Why risk it?"

He sighed. "Last time I was at the Summer Court, many years ago, I visited all across their lands. Because of my station I was expected to meet and tour their military bases. One day, I visited their barracks." His rugged and worn soldier's palm slipped from under his head and ever so slightly scraped its way to her side, grasping at her hip. The sensation elicited a deep shiver from her, though she pretended to not be effected. His cocky, self-assured smirk told her that she wasn't fooling him in the least. "They had this pretty efficient plumbing system. They washed outside in this kind of standing bath with long hoses. I remember wanting to implement a similar set up, but knew that there was no way. It was quick and saved space with virtually no cleanup because they were outdoors, but we don't have the same steady and hot climate like they do. Our soldiers would freeze." He kissed her abdomen. "That night, after we returned from our day in Velaris, I went to the bathroom and I saw you bathing."

Forgetting where she was and her current lack of clothing, she became quickly, though briefly aghast by the violation of her modesty. She nearly covered herself, but realized it was entirely moot at that point.

He playfully gnawed at her skin for a second. "It wasn't like that. I didn't ogle you…much." He admitted and she bit her bottom lip, chasing away a smile. "I realized why were unable to bathe normally."

She looked away for a second and continued to play with his hair. "So you went to the Summer Court to borrow their design?" He quietly bobbed his head. "That was an incredibly stupid thing to do. The risk was not worth the gain."

"I beg to differ." He said softly as her fingers caressed his face before returning to his mesmerizingly soft hair.

She stopped short. "Wait, if you just went to learn how to re-create it, why were you gone for so long?"

"You must have missed me a lot. Were you counting the days?" She glared at him. He sighed with a smile. "Tarquin was more than willing to let bygones be bygones, especially when I told him that I was doing it on behalf of Nesta Archeron, the Slayer of Hybern," he announced her recent title with as much stuffy pretentiousness as he could manage. He continued much quieter. "Who also happens to be my mate."

She huffed. "Cassian!"

"What?" He tried to not smile, failing brilliantly.

"You didn't!"

"Tarquin is a romantic, it was my best chance." That was barely the truth. He mostly just wanted to brag that Nesta was his mate, so he told Tarquin and anyone else he happened upon in the Summer Court, though he knew better than to divulge the latter.

She blew out a shallow breath, deciding this was not a battle worth choosing. "You still didn't answer my question."

"Right." He breathed. "Well, Tarquin figured I owed him and I happened to agree, so the reconciliation was conditional on me repaying my debt."

Her eyes widened. "You were fixing a building?"

He scoffed. "No, not **fixing**. I practically demolished the last one, so there was nothing left to fix."

"So you rebuilt it?" She asked, even more baffled.

He humoredly exhaled. "Did I build it?" He gave a small laugh-like huff. "No, of course not. I financed it, supervised," he paused. "Built it a little." He confessed, grinning almost sheepishly.

"But you came back only to disappear again?"

He looked down, almost bashful. "Well, I went back to the Summer Court to make sure everything was being completed. When I came back, I …" she waited in silence, watching him. "I figured since I liked the design so much, I would build it here."

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Really? That seems presumptuous."

Cassian bit down the urge to make a comment about how ironic it was of her to say so while currently being sprawled naked in his bed. "It's not like that… entirely." He met her stare. "I know what my end goal is here. It's being with you, simple as that." He looked back down. "Whether or not I was successful wasn't the point, it was knowing that you could be comfortable here."

"Have you used it yet?" She asked innocently, not meaning to instigate an innuendo.

"Well, I had to test it out, didn't I?" Her lifted brow inquired further. "The water pressure is even better than at the townhouse or the House of Wind."

"As an incentive, I gather?"

"If you're willing to look at it that way, I am more than happy to agree." He smirked.

* * *

They hadn't moved for nearly an hour and all Nesta could think was how ludicrous it all was. He was her mate and she felt that she knew every shred of him, even though she hadn't known him for more than year. Her emotions were at war with the logic side of her brain. It didn't seem smart to lose herself in something that had no explanation behind it.

"What?" Cassian couldn't help but ask, watching her brows silently furrow for several minutes.

She shook her head. "It's just. I don't understand this at all." Everything he had done had more than proved his feelings for her and even more so, she felt it. "How can we trust anything we feel? What if this bond tricks us into feeling this way?"

He understood what she was asking and it was exactly how he had felt, until he met her. It all made sense to him, even if the idea was entirely senseless. "How do I explain it?" He asked aloud, hoping she didn't think he was patronizing her. "I'm not crazy about you because you are my mate. You are my mate because I'm crazy about you. It has always been undeniable from the second I saw your spirit shining from behind your eyes. It couldn't have gone any other way."

"When did it kick in for you?" There was an honest curiosity in her voice that alerted him to the affection behind it.

"I understood when we sat at the table, but I felt it when you turned that fiery gaze on me and said, 'What are you looking at?'" Cassian laughed. "I was a goner. I had always been skeptical of 'the bond,' but in that moment I knew the Cauldron had got it right this time."

"And you never said anything?"

"What good would it do? You were human and I could tell the last thing you wanted was to be bonded to a Fae mate, let alone an Illyrian one."

"Why didn't you say anything to anyone else?"

"Why, so they could watch us closely, bestowing me with their attention and pity every time they were reminded of you mortality?" He scoffed.

"It didn't bother you?"

"It did, but-"

"But, what?"

"I was content to just annoy you for the rest of your life." He smirked. She glared at him, hiding the desire to smile. His eyes darkened as if he remembered something he didn't want to. "I should've said something."

"What is it?" She asked, plagued by his expression.

"I just…" his eyes focused back on her and the pained depth of them pierced her heart. "I should've known. I'd never heard of a Fae/Human mating bond. The Cauldron already knew your fate. You were my human mate." He shook his head. "If I had said something, we," he cleared his throat. "I might've known better what to protect you from, what to protect Elain from." It had been destined from the beginning. Even Rhys hadn't felt his bond definitively click until Feyre had been made, despite his prior suspicions. Being reborn into immortality had always been the Archeron sisters' fate; it had always been Nesta's. If he hadn't ignored it, he could've hid her away, maintaining the human life she had always expected and wanted.

The silence stretched and Nesta felt herself almost come undone at the revelation. "How long have you thought this?" She asked calmly.

"I started to realize it when we were taking you to the House of Wind that first night after…" He paused before finally finishing. "Hybern."

He had realized once it was too late, Nesta understood. That was why had felt so guilty; not because he couldn't protect her from a threat he never saw coming, but because he should've seen it coming. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He looked away, ashamed. "You already hated me with little reason; I can't imagine how you would've handled knowing how badly your mate had failed your family, how badly I'd failed you."

The hurt in his voice tore at her chest. She couldn't be angry at him, not when she knew he had been doing his absolute best to punish himself that entire time. She touched his hand gently where it rested on his chest. He looked back at her. She continued nonchalant. "And yet, all you did was provoke me."

He heavily shrugged and she could see a thought weighing on his mind. "Out with it." She demanded.

"I was afraid. I saw how Elain was coping." Nesta flinched at the reminder. "I didn't know how to help her; all I knew was that I couldn't survive seeing it happen to you. I needn't have bothered, I now know, but at the time I was terrified. It was such a traumatic experience for you and Mother knows if a mortal mind was ever meant to withstand it." He shook his head. "I soon felt like a fool for ever worrying about you."

"Then why did you continue to antagonize me?" She loudly bit back.

"Because at that point, I realized how fun it was, not to mention that you make the most delicious expressions when aggravated."

She huffed and turned away, but he barricaded her in his arms. Nesta refused to acknowledge the muscled torso she could feel hugging her back. He whispered into her ear, his breathy voice calloused like the prints of his fingers, reminders of his prowess, but when turned on her able to leave goosebumps in their wake. "Like this one." He nuzzled his nose into her neck. She suppressed a shiver, but didn't possess the strength to push him away.

In the silence, Nesta's brow furrowed as she lifted up her hand. Cassian watched as she inspected the mark on her left hand. There was something so endearing and accidentally charming about the action and her open expression. He smiled and lifted his so it rested beside hers.

Her eyes widened slightly at the comparison. His was larger and rougher, countless shades darker than her own and yet they matched. He entwined their tattooed hands and she looked at them for a second before pulling away.

Pulling away, she turned her head away so she wouldn't have to look at him. "There is something I need to say also and you can't interrupt." Nesta tried to sound like she was giving demands, but the truth was that she feared she would lose her nerve. It was more than difficult for her to be honest and vulnerable; thus far it had been impossible. But if there was ever a time she had to try, ever a moment she had wanted to, it was right then.

There was no moving forward until she released what she had been choking on for months. "For a short while there, I hated you." Cassian tensed beside her and she was thankful she couldn't see his face.

True to her request, he stayed quiet, though a thousand words whirled around his mind; whether they were defenses, questions or apologies, he wasn't sure, so he bit down on his tongue and waited for her to continue.

"It came at such an ironic time." There was a lilt in her voice, like a musical yet melancholy humor. "After I had finally realized how deeply I felt for you." She cleared her throat. "I bandaged you and I thought about how brave you were, how caring. You didn't want anyone to know you were injured, if only to save them worry." She felt his hand on her back, but pushed through; needing to relieve what had been churning and festering over and over in her gut. It made her crawl in her skin to talk so openly about her insecurities, especially to Cassian of all people.

"I was so content that you were my mate for the first time since realizing it. You held my hand and I thought… I don't know what I thought, but I know I wasn't afraid of it anymore. Part of me believed I could actually get close to someone," she corrected. "To you."

Blinking back her frustration, she persisted. "All it took was her voice for one second and I ceased to exist." It killed Cassian to hear it, but he knew that he had to. "I felt myself vanish from your thoughts. It was like the bond that had been so built up was suddenly worthless. It hurt and embarrassed me and I swore I wouldn't let myself feel that way ever again."

Cassian was filled with a heavy regret. He couldn't pretend she was completely unjustified in her feelings. Though Mor was simply his friend, he felt as if he needed to hide the depth of his connection to Nesta. He had spent nearly 500 years maintaining his position as buffer between Azriel and Mor. The only way it had been possible for so long was because he had kept himself distanced and unattached. He had never wanted or needed anything more for himself until he had met Nesta. The worst part was that he knew how sick it made her feel to confess all of it, but she had to and he was the one who made her feel so horrible.

She huffed a breath. "It was hard to stay angry when our lives were still threatened, but once the war was over and we were still alive, I was livid all over again. I didn't want to give you that power over me, but I did." She sighed. "It happened again. We were training and Mor was there." The name was poisoned on her tongue with jealousy. "I vanished again." She gritted her teeth. "And I hated you so much for it."

He now understood why she had kept lunging at him that day, unable to gather herself or think. "All I wanted was to hit you. I wanted to hurt you so bad it sickened me, but then you…" kissed her, he remembered well enough.

"I didn't want to let you in and part of me is still sure it would be a mistake." There was a weighted pause and she was no longer recalling, but speaking directly to him. "I don't know if you are trying to keep this from her or if you feel like you owe her because of your past together," he tensed, guessing it was the ever trustworthy Feyre who had revealed the nitty and gritty of their history. "But there won't be a third time. I just can't." She turned to finally look at him, refusing to feel anything but what was propelling her in that moment.

He was watching her intently and she was thankful for his silence. "I don't need to be the only woman in your life, but I need to be a part of it and an important part at that. I don't exist only when it's most convenient for you." She sat up in the bed. "If you don't think you can do that, let me know now because I won't waste my time. I'll walk away and we can forget this all ever happened."

Simply the suggestion made his gut wrench in pain; turning away like it had meant nothing. This wasn't Mor or any other one time fling that had crossed his path in the past 500 years. He would never just be over her, because she was it. He couldn't walk away from her unscathed and he honestly didn't want to. "I don't want us to talk about this forever. It was hard enough for me to say it out loud now. I'm not used to being intimate and vulnerable, but I had to be honest, because I couldn't keep holding that in." She sighed. "All that being said, you may speak now."

He sat still, looking into her eyes and through her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." She said softly. "I'm not looking for apologies, but I couldn't breathe with that caught in my throat."

There was a soft silence between them. It was clear how strained Nesta felt in the moment and Cassian decided not to push. After a minute, she looked back at him. "We should probably head back soon."

"I have a thought." Cassian said with a soft, mischievous smile.

A small part of Nesta's mind still demanded that she cover up to preserve her modesty which seemed ludicrous, considering all the time Cassian had spent letting his eyes, hands and tongue devour her body. There wasn't a single inch of her that hadn't been discovered by at least one of his senses. She turned the water on and let it flow over her.

He was right; his showering device did feel different. She wasn't sure if he built it so (as some sort of motivation for her to use it) or if it was simply the delicious relief of rinsing off the post-coital sweat that had cooled and formed, a few times over.

He stepped in to join her. She tried not to notice the insatiable heat in his eyes as she rinsed herself clean. She took his place, leaning against the glass pane after pushing him into the falling water. His fingers combed the water through his hair, but his eyes never left her. She savored the greedy and starved gaze, and was equally guilty, appreciating the way his bicep bulged as he rinsed his hair. It made her hungry.

Standing out of reach from his arms and the water, she suddenly felt cold. The expression in his eyes changed and she was sure that he knew precisely what she wanted. Cassian quickly closed the gap between them, kissing her furiously. He grabbed and lifted her knee in one quick, effortless movement. He could feel its soft underside tense from his calloused fingers.

He kissed her harder, pressing up against the thick glass pane. His other hand slid between her legs. He began kissing the side of her neck as her fingers tangled in his hair. He bent his thumb flush against the bunched nerves. He slowly rubbed and was rewarded with a rasped inhale. She started to writhe and grind against his hand.

Cassian let his index finger softly tease her entrance. The agony of the delicious torture burned her from the inside out as she huffed and moaned into his ear. His finger finally prodded its way inside and her sharp intake of breath was punished as he quickly stole it away. Her hand released his hair and ran down his chest. She leaned forward until her lips grazed his ear. "Enough!" She demanded, biting his earlobe. "Stop teasing and give me what I want!"

His lips pulled away from her neck and morphed into a devilish smirk as he met her heated glare. "And what exactly would that be?"

He stilled, not having noticed earlier that her hand had disappeared from his view. He stiffened as she stroked him. "Don't act like you don't know." She chided in a husky whisper. She had noticed him getting harder as he touched and kissed her. He needed to feel her around him as much as she needed him inside her.

He growled, latching his lips onto her welcoming ones. He pushed her knee back to her chest and quickly guided himself inside her. She nearly roared, pushing back. It wasn't like before, slower and gentler. No, this was rushed, greedy and vicious. Nesta thought the glass behind her might break from the sounds it made as he repeatedly thrust her against it. It would need to be rebuilt, sturdier to withstand them, she realized.

Cassian finished fast and Nesta even faster, both of them still too exhausted from before to withstand their own intensity. She shuddered, nearly hyperventilating as he withdrew from her. His breath was almost as labored as her own.

She stood, fully leaning on the glass behind her. Even though Nesta was ultimately spent, she found the strength to softly kick Cassian's leg. "Go." She huffed, nudging him.

"What?" He turned, almost looking offended.

"You're distracting me." It was impossible to get clean with him beckoning her to stay dirty.

"You're welcome." He smirked.

"Go." She pushed.


	9. Swearing Sanctity & Starlight

**Ch. 9: Swearing Sanctity & Starlight**

It was nearly sunrise when they took flight in the direction of the House of Wind. Nesta wasn't sure what to say, so she kept quiet, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

On one hand, she felt closer to Cassian than she ever thought she could feel towards another person. Of course, the downside was that to feel that way, she had become entirely vulnerable in front of him. That fear, background noise of insecurity, is what bought her silence. She had been selfish, jealous and needy. He knew that he mattered to her and that nearly terrified her. When they landed on the balcony, he tried to follow her in. "Go," she said as apathetic as she could muster. "You have a project to complete."

Cassian paused and watched her closely, sensing an intentional disconnect as if she were pulling away.

He pulled her close to him before she could walk away. He kissed her gently. "I'll see you on Starfall."

She nodded, walking away. The house was quiet as she carefully snuck her way through. It seemed no one was around to take in her scandalously late entrance. Slipping into bed, she marveled at how relatively easy it had been for her to walk away from him. Of course, she had wanted to stay with him, but from the picture everyone had painted, she'd figured it'd be impossible to leave. That was when she realized that even though, they had spent the night together, she had yet to accept him. Even more so, she had no idea how.

* * *

It didn't come naturally for Nesta, talking to Feyre. There was no longer a stoic and cold untouched silence stewing between them. All the quiet that now accompanied their interactions had become merely a lack of dialogue unburdened with their usual loaded context. Nesta wouldn't have specifically searched her younger sister out if she didn't absolutely need answers. After those hours she had spent in Cassian's bed, barricaded in his arms she knew two things with absolute certainty. One: Something still remained acting as a barrier between them. Two: She wanted it gone. The hardest part was finding a topic of conversation to build upon.

It was rare to find Feyre alone. The High Lady spent most of her time with her mate in their townhouse, so when Nesta found her by herself at the House of Wind, she was determined to take advantage of the opportunity. She had barely greeted Feyre in the sitting room when Elain strolled in standing as tall as Nesta had ever seen.

The youngest sister was surprised to see Elain inside for any reason other than mealtime. Feyre seemed ready to stand as she spoke with concern. "Elain, are you feeling okay?"

Elain sat beside Nesta. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

Feyre shrugged. "I guess I'm just not used to seeing you come voluntarily indoors."

Elain regarded Nesta briefly from her periphery. "I was actually looking for you, Feyre."

"Why?"

"Well, we've been here for months and I just feel like we know so little about the people, the culture. It's still so new."

Feyre seemed dumbfounded by her uncharacteristically verbose sister. "Well, what would you like to know?"

Nesta had to gulp down a hiss. She had finally cornered Feyre, but she wasn't going to get any answers from her because Elain wanted a history lesson then of all times.

Elain shrugged as if she hadn't given it a lot of thought. "The inner circle."

Feyre sighed. "That in and of itself is a long complex answer."

"Then what about you?" Elain compromised.

"Me?"

"Well, when we were brought here suddenly you were the High Lady. It just seemed awfully quick."

"It was." Feyre agreed. "But Rhys was my mate. When that is the case, things typically tend to move faster."

Something Nesta knew all too well, she unconsciously nodded to herself.

"So he just was your mate or he became your mate? I'm still not sure I understand it."

Nesta was content to stay quiet as the conversation she had become an outsider to effortlessly strayed towards her own topic. Feyre gave her an understanding smile. "It's complicated. You don't really become someone's mate, you just become aware that you already are."

"What happens next?"

Nesta began mentally taking notes. "Well, you can choose to accept it." The youngest replied.

"How do you do that?" Elain pushed.

Feyre paused and beamed. "Are you thinking about accepting Lucien?"

Nesta's head whipped back to Elain. She had guessed nothing of the sort, mainly because she'd been thoroughly preoccupied as of late. Elain's eye widened for a moment. "It's crossed my mind."

The eldest Archeron was surprised to find that it was relief that filled her gut as opposed to any negative emotion. Even though she struggled to comprehend it beyond her subconscious, she was relieved because if Elain was considering it, that meant she had started to move beyond her heartbreak; in any form, that was good news.

Feyre nodded in a bafflingly calm manner. "If there's one thing I can say with absolute certainty, it's that Lucien loves fiercely." Nesta looked back to Feyre, whose eyes became sad. "He hasn't been very fortunate in the past. I think that is why his heart is so compassionate this time around." Her voice revealed tragedy so deep it even captured Nesta's attention.

For all Elain's newfound confidence from her foresight, she stalled. This was meant to help Nesta, but she realized there was something she needed to learn as well. In that moment, she longed to trade her visions of the future for recollections of the past.

Elain had seen what her life with Lucien would be. She knew that they would love each other with a deep and honest sincerity. She had even recently come to see premonitions of their vibrant daughter with wild ginger curls and she already loved her relentlessly, it was impossible not to; but all that foresight had nearly spoiled the journey for her. She had yet to learn what would make her fall so helplessly for Lucien, so unaware that she would love and heal the pain in his eyes and in his heart.

Elain felt her timid old self, but pushed forward for her older sister's sake. "How does one accept?"

Her sisters both took in her shy and pensive disposition. Feyre answered gently. "I'm sure there is more than one way, but I made and served him food."

"That's all?" Nesta interrupted. From the look on her younger sisters faces, they'd both forgotten she was there.

Feyre answered as if Elain had spoken. "Yes and it doesn't need to be elaborate. I heated some soup."

Elain nodded nonchalantly as Nesta decided to take her unmonitored leave. As she got up, Feyre looked at their other sister and her voice rang out almost solemnly. It caused Nesta to pause. "Just make sure that you are certain. He doesn't deserve to have his heart broken again."

There was empathy in her eyes and it awakened a similar expression in Elain's, causing her to nod. Nesta briefly wondered how fully she had misjudged Lucien. If Feyre had done justice to her implication of his painful past, Nesta gathered it was a great deal indeed.

* * *

It was the day of Starfall when Nesta had finally perfected her offering. She bundled it in a cloth napkin and hurried to her room to get ready. She was now thankful for the unusual cut of the dress that Elain had picked for her. Though it dipped in the front to tastefully parade her décolletage, it lifted on the sides of the neck doing an adequate job of hiding the fading marks Cassian had kissed all over her nearly a week before.

The sleeves were a sheer crimson that stretched all the way down to her wrists where it tapered to a point at her 3rd finger. Her bodice was a deep maroon satin that fell passed her feet, giving her a subtle train. The satin at her neck wrapped around like a cuff, leaving her back only covered by the layer of red lace. The satin reappeared at the small of her back, where it was fastened together with small buttons to the top.

It was undoubtedly the most impressive garment she had ever seen. She couldn't begin to wonder how much time and effort had gone into it. It seemed the deepest stroke of luck that it fit her like a 2nd skin. The only issue was that she would always need assistance putting it on and taking it off.

She entered Elain's room and asked for her help with the buttons. "The only downside to the dress you chose…" She said with a shrug.

Elain smirked. "I see no downside. It looks amazing and it will teach patience."

"I don't need to learn patience." She insisted.

Her younger sister looked at her with a playfully lifted brow. "I wasn't talking about you."

Nesta's mouth was agape at the innuendo from her once-innocent sister. "I-" she sputtered when a knock sounded at the door.

"Yes?" Elain called, pinning up her golden curls.

"If you're both ready," Feyre began on the other side of the door. "We'll be on the balcony to fly down."

Elain straightened her high neck lilac gown. It buoyantly draped off her, billowing to the floor. She opened the door and smiled gently. "Oh, we're done." She appreciatively glanced at Feyre's dress. It was long, black velvet that hung off the shoulders with bell sleeves. The seemingly simple garment was actually adorned with little splintered off diamond fragments. She was a starlit midnight sky. It was all very befitting for the High Lady of the Night Court.

Elain followed her out, while Nesta went back to her room to grab her cloth. She trailed right behind Elain, just as Rhys was trying to place who would go with whom. Elain spoke up. "You don't have to account for me." She smiled. "I'll take the stairs."

"Do you realize how long that will take?" Feyre asked.

"I don't mind. It's such a nice night." She turned and looked to Lucien beside her. With a demure smile she asked, "Would you care to join me?"

The expression on his face was gentle and graceful, almost too intimate for their large, prying audience. Lucien offered her his arm and she gladly accepted it as they walked towards the stairs.

Nesta could feel Cassian's eyes on her the entire time. The warmth in them nearly caused her to blush, for it served as a reminder of how much heat the rest of his body could provide.

The groups flew down, eventually leaving the two still on the balcony. Cassian looked at the departing party, more than halfway down their descent. "I like your dress." He tried lamely.

"Your unhinged jaw gave me no indication of that whatsoever." She oozed with a superior smirk.

He gave a small chuckle. The sound seemed almost nervous to Nesta. She rested her hands on the balcony and looked out. Wearing a calm, almost passive expression on her face, she spoke gently. "What's it like?"

"Starfall?" He leaned beside her. "It's amazing; the dancing, the wine, the view."

"How long does it last?"

"Typically until after the sun comes up."

"That seems extreme." She remarked with soft humor in her voice.

"Nothing is half-baked in the Night Court." He smirked until his eyes faltered for a brief second.

"What?"

He turned to look at her, the melted honey in his eyes drenched with affection. "Last week …" He finally began, piquing her interest. "It felt strained, the way we left things and I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"I know; it was all just a lot to process." She explained. "I needed to think about a few things." His shoulders seemed to release some tension. "Were you actually worried?" She asked in utter disbelief.

He scoffed. "No." His tone revealed the truth. "I just kept thinking about what I said. I figured you must've considered all of this my fault. If I had simply said something…"

She shook her head. "Were you there with me?" She patted his hand beside hers. "After what we told each other, after everything you've done? A few months ago, I chose to die beside you and you thought I would walk away over something so trivial?"

"Trivial? My silence changed your life." He insisted.

"I happen to like my life right now." She stated simply. Still holding on to the balcony, she leaned back and looked at the stars. "It's nice to know I've been right about you all along."

"How do you mean?" He inquired, ready to be offended.

She met his eyes and touched his face. "You really are an idiot." He could hear the affection in her voice as a smile reached her eyes.

"Are we going to join everyone down there?"

He shook his head. "I was thinking we should wait. This is the best place to be when it starts."

"Which should be when exa- Bless the Mother!" She exclaimed as soon as it began. She kept her eyes on the sky as streams of ethereal light raced across the sky. Nesta couldn't move or look away for several minutes, hostage to the magnificent vision that danced for them.

The silence that came from Cassian finally started to gnaw at her. He had said nothing since it had begun.

He knelt before Nesta. Her head swung with a swiftness so harsh it actually made his heart stop for a brief second. "What are you doing?" The cadence of her voice was strong and even.

He looked into her eyes and could identify the fondness with which they now regarded him. It eased the senseless tension in his gut. "Doing this right."

"If you say something as ludicrous as making an honest woman out of me, you know that won't go over well."

Cassian had the gall to chuckle at her, but Nesta was serious. She appreciated the chivalry and deeply respected his devotion to honor and duty, but she would not be treated as an obligation, especially after everything that had happened between them.

"I would not flatter myself in pretending or insinuating I have any influence over that. You are an honest woman, regardless of my intentions or actions."

Nesta couldn't deny the pride that swelled in her heart to hear him say as much, instead she deflected. "Well then, what are you doing?"

"If you would be quiet for a second, you'd soon find out."

Nesta had to bite back both a snarl and a laugh at his irritation and simultaneous affection. "Fine." She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, nodding her head in an almost mocking invitation for him to continue.

"Nesta, I am beyond grateful that I am your potential mate and in many ways that should be enough. But when I said I wanted you, I meant it in every sense of the word.

I want us to belong to each other in every way." He breathed. "You once said that the human in you needs to be persuaded. That is who this question is for. I promised that I wanted all of you and I meant it. The mortal part of your heart saw marriage as the ultimate gesture of commitment and fidelity and she deserves no less. In your old world our bond means nothing." He shook his head. "I can't stomach the thought. I want my devotion for you to be recognized wherever we are. No matter where this endless existence takes us, I want what we are to one another to never be in question." He reached out and gently pulled her hand to him, clasping the two together. "This bargain won't come to an end, not for me, until I have earned acceptance from every fragment of you."

He kissed her hand and then let his teeth playfully bite at the skin, smoothing his rough thumb over her intricate midnight tendriled bargain. He looked up with a smirk. "Don't mistake me for a complete romantic." He laughed. "I am just a selfish Illyrian who is greedy for every piece of your heart." Nesta knew that wasn't the whole truth. He was asking because he wanted to be able to give her anything she desired, but more importantly, he wanted her to know that he was willing, even overjoyed to accept the parts of her that still clung to the world of her birth and its customs. He respected and appreciated her origin.

"Even with that in mind, I still want to ask you to marry me because I'm only selfish and greedy when it comes to you."

She finally looked at the ring. Clear as day, she saw it. A dahlia. The small arrangement of garnets and rubies were clustered to look like a red dahlia the size of her nail. It was stunning and unique without being gaudy and Nesta loved it.

She humoredly shook her head. "Do you know what the gift of a dahlia is symbolic for?"

His knee began to ache as he felt stupidly stuck. He couldn't help but wonder if she was stalling. She loved him, that much he knew, but if she wasn't ready than he was needlessly pushing her. "Tell me."

She outright smiled, allowing him to breathe again. "It is a symbol of commitment-" he nodded. She opened her outstretched hands, revealing a cloth. "A bond that lasts forever."

With his free hand, Cassian pulled the cloth back to find a slightly crisp biscuit. "This was my best attempt." She admitted, before standing straighter. "Though I guess I needn't have bothered, considering you'll eat anything. You said so yourself; so I figured this'll do."

It was bland and simple; there was no decadence or exaggerated effort into it. Even though it was a small imperfect offering, it meant the world to him. "So, is that a yes?" She quietly nodded.

Something felt different as he kissed her. "We don't have to stay for the rest of this, do we?" She asked with a hard edge in her tone that let him know the best answer to give.

He smirked. "No, you've seen the majority of it. Just imagine this for hours."

"There's always next year, right?"

"Right." He agreed.

"I think I left something at your house." She said pointedly.

He nodded. "I'm sure you did." He wrapped her in his arms and they took off in flight in the direction of his house on the other side of Velaris.

* * *

"Don't take this the wrong way." He said, nuzzled into her neck. "You look amazing, but I hate this dress." He nearly growled, his fingers fumbling at the buttons. "That's it!"

He kissed her lips and before he could make the move, she growled. "Don't even think about it Cassian!" You are not ripping the back of this dress!"

He antagonistically groaned against her mouth. "Well, I'm losing patience!" He whined, needing to feel her bare skin in his hands. "I can't wait."

Cassian's throaty huff tickled her ear, making her feel equally impatient. Rough, talented hands began rolling up the bottom of her dress as fast as they could manage, which wasn't very much. When his prints scraped against her calf, her breath was yanked from her lungs in a somewhat dramatic manner. She couldn't help the reckless ecstasy of him touching her. It was so much stronger than before. He was now her mate, forever.

The sound that escaped his mate caused any patience Cassian still possessed to wholly evaporate from the confines of his riled up fleshy prison. He was drenched in her flames and it was incinerating him. "This is driving me crazy." He said angrily between kisses.

The desperation in his voice captured Nesta's attention. "You heard me! You will not-"

"I know, I know. I won't rip the _back_ of this dress."

The emphasis revealed his actions. "Wha- Oh!" She gasped as he ripped up the leg of her gown. She looked down to inspect the damage done. She met his eyes again. "You are lucky it looks good." She seethed, kissing him with full knowledge that even if he had shredded the dress to ribbons, it couldn't have been able to get her to stop kissing him. Nothing could.

He scoffed. "Luck? That's skill."

She smirked against his lips. "Let's see you put that skill to better use."

"As you wish, Goddess." Though there was a clear amount of sarcasm in his voice, she could also hear the sincerity. She had never felt so divine and ethereal as she did when his hands raked over her thighs, his fingertips screaming her name as he filled her. She knew that was how he saw her, she could feel it in the way his body paid tribute to hers; offering after offering, endless hours of transcendent worship.


	10. Claiming Tomorrow & Forever

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Sorry for the late upload, I was pretty busy today. Here is the final chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I definitely enjoyed writing it (for the most part, lol). Who knows? Frost & Starlight might give me more inspiration in the future... As always, please R&R. I'm definitely curious of your opinion on the finished product. Thanks so much. -Nikk**

 **Ch. 10: Claiming Tomorrow & Forever**

Nesta had to swallow the urge to pout, even though she wasn't used to having the desire in the first place. She would've been perfectly content to stay trapped in Cassian's loft for a year at least. Although it was clear her mate felt the same, it was Nesta's decision that they return to the House of Wind. Once she realized that her hunger for him wasn't ever going to truly lessen, she reluctantly peeled herself off the table and dressed for the first time in weeks.

As her hand roamed over her unmarked left arm, she frowned slightly to herself. After she had accepted him six weeks before, she felt something change. When they had become mates, their bargain had been fulfilled and their marks vanished. She missed the decorative account that she had come to identify with her ridiculous and infuriating mate. She shook off the momentary lapse and looked back to find him watching her.

She smirked at the pout he gave her. "I just want to go and get it over with." She sighed.

"But-"

She held up her hand. "No, but's-" he smirked. She rolled her eyes, offering him her hand. His back was practically glued to the table with perspiration. "Not even your astoundingly fantastic one, General."

He yanked her into his arms and kissed her softly. "Mmm, I love when you get all official."

Her inquisitive brow seemed tied to her upturned mouth as both raised, displaying her humor. "I can tell."

He grinned. "I have a proposition."

"I'm listening."

"We can go back to the House of Wind, but first I think we should both clean up, make ourselves presentable. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a bit messy."

She smiled and briefly kissed him. "You're right, we should definitely rinse off first."

* * *

He held her tightly in his arms as they soared over Velaris. She knew that she was going to hate coming back. Mentally preparing herself for the teasing that would no doubt ensue, she groaned when his feet touched the balcony. He shook his head with a grin in his eyes. "This was your idea."

"I know." She nodded and stood straight as a pole. When she took a step forward, his hand pulled her back.

"Wait."

"What?"

"We didn't talk about this."

"About what?' She asked, completely impatient.

He pointedly looked at their entwined hands. "This." Though he wanted nothing more than to never let her go, he knew how reserved she was in public. "Do we touch? Do we not touch?"

She sighed and gave a small smile, grateful that he put so much thought into her comfort. Even if the entirety of the Inner Circle could guess what they had been doing for the past 6 weeks, Nesta still didn't want them taunting the two of them. "We touch, but not constantly."

Cassian had become so accustomed to touching her at all times, (even in their sleep) that the idea was less than welcoming. Though if it made her feel more comfortable, he decidedly had no qualms about it. He theatrically sighed and nodded.

She saw through the act and motioned to step towards the door. He pulled her into his arms, his hand fisting the fabric of her dress at the small of her back, and he kissed her deeply until he felt her knees go slack. He released her. "Just to get it out of my system." He winked.

She wanted to fume, but found that her fires had been blown out. He grinned and opened the double doors with fanfare. "I'm back!" He called excitedly and Nesta understood his intentions to throw her off focus.

He wanted to make her flustered and to her own irritation, it worked. "Ass." She quietly growled following after him.

She entered the dining room a minute after he had. Everything seemed jovial as they caught him up on what had happened during the past month. The entire group had been betting over whether the two were fighting or fucking, though they all knew better than to say as much.

It was Feyre who seemed most intrigued by the entrance of the Illyrian General. Eyes wide, the High Lady took it all in, peeking into the brief mental comments of her family. When her eldest sister turned the corner she immediately saw the shimmer on her finger. She was in the middle of processing her initial shock, when something absolutely ludicrous happened.

Cassian had made some off-handed remark over re-introducing purpose back into their lives with his presence. Mor shoved him in jest and a thundering snarl echoed in the room, striking fear into everyone, including Cassian. Silence surrounded them all as each of them slowly turned to look at Nesta. Her eyes were bulged twice the size of everyone else's and her hands were clasped over her offending mouth in utter disbelief.

Cassian beamed, his eyes overflowing with a boundless affection as the room tried to come to their senses over what had just happened. That kind of ferocity and territorial behavior could only be explained in one way. As Nesta's presence was taken in by the Inner Circle, her smell solidified their collective realization. Several moments dragged in heavy disbelief. Finally, it was Lucien's baffled voice that broke through the stunned quiet. He looked around, unsure if the rest of the room was as out of the loop as he felt. "What the fuck?"


End file.
